Sing For Absolution
by ThePhantomsFlutist
Summary: It's like dancing on an edge of a knife, one way she breaks, the other she's fine. Like my words don't matter, my actions are useless. If it takes everything to get to her, let it be. Companion to In My Childish Fears. Leroux/Kaybased elements dark/modern
1. Overture and Da Capo

**Bonjour! **

**This has been my muse for a while now, ever since this past summer when I have written In My Childish Fears. This is another take of what happened from Erik's point of view (who else). This is kind of a risky attempt to me. I'm kind of tipping my feet into the cold water with this matter, after practicing writing from his mind in a manner. I like to think this Erik less dark in his thinking, but his actual motive is something different. In My Childish Fears felt incomplete to me when I was writing it because you really didn't get the entire story when Christine is terribly biased, and you don't get my real intending effect of it as I thought it should be. **

**So, this would have to be a test of new challenging heights for me. After going in depth and studying more literature during my time in school I've held a grasp of what real writing is compared to mine, and I hope, that by the end of the school year this will be complete. I have a lot more written, but I need criticism from other phans. As my Creative Writing teacher puts it, when you write something, it's like you're married to it and you can't criticize it thoroughly even if you wanted to. I need eyes, people, and words!  
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**Enjoy and REVIEW s'il vous plait!  
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**~The Phantom's Flutist~  
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Sing For Absolution

_Prologue_

"_These violent delights have violent ends,_

_and in their triumph die,_

_like fire and powder."_

_-Romeo and Juliet_

I should have never been born with emotion. Is it even possible? I think not, but it's nice to imagine I don't feel anything like when my hands have wound around someone's neck, or when there's a cold body laying in front of my feet. I don't feel remorse. Why can't it be that I should never fell in love?

It wasn't hard to break something I knew was already broken. She was about to die before I came to her, the way she moved was like a limp rag doll, and she never talked. But when she sang, it's like the dead girl never existed. When she sang she set my black soul alight... her voice so pure and ethereal and for the first time in the world, I fell in love with an object that I could hold, grasp, and tell it everything is going to be okay. But it's a shame I can't hold anything. I can only break them like a bird trapped between my hands... and it died there.

At the time, it was a good idea. To take her from the world that had been so cruel to her and show her the life I alone could provide for her--love, a wealthy suitor, opportunities for education, and utmost loyal companionship, along with days dedicated to our passion which is music, and I would make her voice exceptional. I succeeded in only two of those it seems. And that, altogether really was depressing.

Most importantly, I loved her. Hell, I still love her. I'd really like to die if it made her happy, but I seem to not be able to do anything right, for dying, however, wasn't an option either.

_Chapter 1:_

_Da Capo_

How I met the girl who twisted my life even more so, you ask? It was silly, really, thinking back on it.

It was a time when I was on a low of things to do and my life was just wasting away by the day and the hour. Now don't think my further actions were caused by boredom, just... hatred of life itself. Nadir had finally somewhat given up on me when I started another addiction to a drug that was much better than anything you could smoke... morphine was the light of my life at the time taking its rightful place right next to music.\. For the umpteenth time in my life, I was alone. It was like the type of alone that swallows you up whole after you've committed a heinous act. Well, actually, you might not be able to relate. At this time I thought about suicide often, but when I thought back on it when I was in a slightly lighter mood, I was far too accomplished for any of that.

I needed someone else. There has always been an empty void in my life, something that I could never fulfill entirely. From the grandest architecture company, to my magnum opus and with money that one can only bulge their eyes out when looking, I had achieved all I had really could, and still have the job of working constantly. Power had kept me physically busy, but my mind was elsewhere. I could never figure it out.

It was one night when I had decided to give myself an enjoyment by personally critiquing on a fairly good budget high school-level production. Quite frankly, the acting was horrible, yet the voices were exquisite. My attention was brought upon one of the soloists with a co-starring part who liked to smile a lot with curly hair that hardly managed to be brought into a perky ponytail, and a voice that was crystalline... Not too skinny, not too big, either. And her name was Christine Daae.

She was a freshman, and yet she had a leading part. Very rare, very talented, and very sure about herself being only fourteen years old. I looked to the playbill for the production and noted the small background where she comes from, with only two relatives and two friends to thank compared to the other girls, she led a small life. Yet when she was on this stage, and when she opened her mouth to sing, she was someone who shined... unlike the other girls who liked to suck the spotlight up away from the poor girl.

Perhaps it was fate that brought me there that summer night to an amateur theater group when I could be in the big name opera houses enjoying myself perhaps in Europe somewhere, or even back to Paris. God, maybe, but I had such little faith, it would be very cruel to finally decide to dote upon me now. Whatever it was, it gave me Christine Daae, and she needed that particular attention more than I thought. Yet, whatever, perhaps that same force, that had me love Christine more than my life, more than my music, was very cruel. The same way it gave me Madeleine as a mother, an unknown father, and a chief-of-police as a friend, each brought me a wave of what now makes up my life.

I can only name the people who have ever mattered to me on one hand, and Christine wrapped herself around one of those fingers and grabbed hold... I couldn't take her off. Since when has a woman charmed me such as she has?

I laid low for the next few months, regretting what I have ever thought about her thinking it just another lowly thing that's passed through my life, but I couldn't exactly keep my mind off of her. And I have no idea _why_ or _how_. Maybe it was the morphine was coming to my head now. It took a few weeks to get over it, to learn how to not care and feel the nothingness I have always felt. Eventually, I did, but it was hard.

I learned a few months later that I knew why I was looking through her profile in the arts...

One night she had a Christmas concert with her ensemble group sponsored by one of the most prestigious conservatories on the east coast which was Peabody. Myself, being the main gracious giver to this function, was obliged to attend, but for more than one reason. I heard she had a solo. Whether it be her charm from the stage or her voice, I simply had to hear it again.

It was in a small concert hall that was built for the high school Christine Daae attended, it was known for the arts because of the county she lived in, which made her the picturesque recipient to such great education in music and the performing arts. But there was more than hammered-in training that showed when she sang. She had no exceptional traits, she fit in well with the white-and-black dressed students that were mostly taller than her, she had no extremes of anything, with the curly hair, and she was simply average. But when she sang... it was like all of that changed. She went from the homely girl in the background to the angel that dared to open her mouth and sing. The choir backed her up, and the entire thing was done a Capella.

She sang the Christmas carol _O Holy Night _with that exceptional voice of hers, she lifted her chin up, fixed her posture. I could see no trace of nerve in her being as if everything was natural. Not that there were not a little over two hundred eyes watching her intently, and the eyes of the chorus that were the eyes of hungry wolves_. _She looked somewhere, but I couldn't tell where until I looked in more closely, but it seemed like she was looking right at me as she sang. I was getting carried away with myself, for it was very unlikely. I followed the direction of her eyes to see that she was looking at a man sitting not far from where I hid, and I could see him silently weeping, while on the edge of his seat. It was obviously her father. She didn't sing for the chorus' jealousy, or to grace the crowd with her heavenly voice, or her self confidence... she sang only for that man.

It was a pang in my stomach that made me want to hold that voice of hers and mold it to become perfection in itself. She sang good, a nice clear tone, but she had to have more to make it professional at such a young age. What made it surprising was that she was only fourteen... She could change from soprano to alto within a few weeks and her voice might be entirely changed. I couldn't let that happen. It was the first time I wanted to make contact with a person so much, though she was only fourteen, and would probably turn and run at my first approach. She was the type to turn and run at her own shadow, which was what I have seen, if it wasn't for her friend Meghan Giry to turn her around and keep going. I believe she would have been ran over altogether with the approaches this world makes on her. She was a jewel in the rough, and I couldn't touch it because I would hurt it with my fingerprints that might be permanent on her. But my desire to hone that voice never ceased to gnaw away at my insides, and a peculiar longing began.

She was approached by many of the audience members that came to compliment her and her achievements. I had to restrain myself from making any sort of contact, and it was probably one of the hardest things I'm yet to do... restrain myself from my own desires. All but one have been fulfilled even with today's technology. There was this one boy that didn't seem to go away, and she seemed to have known him. She smiled when he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around her small frame and kissed her cheek, handing her a bouquet of daisies. They knew each other. He was a handsome boy for his age, golden hair and athletic build. Him with his arm around her made it seem that she was a different girl. Her father was fine with this, unlike most fathers... but how would I know? It was all so natural, and the pains began to become worse. It was so perfect and fine and I knew I would disturb every part of their peace if I put up my selfish desire to teach her music...

I left the concert hall quickly after that, and began to chastise myself for even thinking about Christine Daae. It was silly of me, she was so young... at least eleven years younger than myself. I needed to get away from it, and begin to think on more things, but it was so hard. Everything I did reminded me of what more I could do. I listed all the reasons of why it would be unreasonable to make contact with her, but my unreasonable mind spoke in more strongly. It quickly became instinct for me to come up with reasons of why I should look over her fragility, to make sure nothing steals it, to make sure her voice is taken care of... and above all, for the first time in my entire life, I had to make sure she was _safe_ and out of harms' way. For the first time in my life, I wanted to cherish something other than what I've accomplished, and instead, someone who has touched the points in my life that are an enormous empty void. I could be her guardian angel for now, and as long as I'm restrained, forever. I assured myself I could keep watch from behind and stay out of her sight. Little did I know, all of that was going to change in a matter of months.

It was the beginning of that summer that her father died. After acting as her guardian angel for the past few months, ensuring that she received all of the proper things to resume her progress in building a career for herself in high school. Everything crashed down one day, when I noticed she hadn't come to a rehearsal for the summer musical she was about to star in. I panicked because it wasn't like her to miss anything. She hadn't been acting sick before, and her friends weren't there either. Meghan Giry came in to rehearsal with a bleak expression, which was odd for someone like her annoying type, the opposite of her mother, another sponsor to the program.

Apparently, Christine's father had been suffering under pancreatic cancer and when he was diagnosed, he had been in the final stages. Pancreatic cancer meant certain death, no cure, and no way to go around it. She must be mortified... Not just that but that was her only living parent. She told the girls when the funeral was to give condolences, and to weep with her. They evidently all knew Christine's father because he was a loved substitute teacher at their high school. I didn't think I should invite myself in, and I didn't, I've been through enough funerals, and I couldn't put myself up to seeing Christine cry, though I_ was _her guardian angel. _Christine, if the world was different, your head could be on my shoulder_...

I watched her come to her empty house that night, ghostly pallid and she moved slowly as if the world could stop moving. She leaned her head against the shoulder of her aunt, Ms. Valerious . I couldn't stand looking at Christine for she was such a broken mess, her face red from crying, and she was holding her chest as if she let it go, she might fall to pieces and fall to the ground, face first. I wanted to hold her in her arms and let her cry instead of mercilessly showing her the house where it all happened. Poor Christine looked dead, as pale as a vampire. I wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, but as strong as the urge said I should do so, I very well knew I couldn't. She wasn't going to be okay, for she lost someone very dear to her... I wanted to do something to make it go away as I watched her from afar. It hurt me almost as much as it harmed her. I could see the pain etched in her eyes, the suffering of the fact that you're now alone in the world...

I could offer her the world and more, whatever she desired, and yet I would never hold the ability to bring the dead and gone back to life. Actually, I'm not quite sure I'd want to, considering the dead would be the ones to have held grudges in order to make my life a living hell. I turned away from the sight as she locked herself into her room, and curled into a tiny ball in the middle of her bed and began to cry, her entire frame shaking when she was finished, her face red and eyes swollen, but she wore no expression in her eyes... She looked quite dead. Christine would never be the same again.

She went to live with her aunt who happened to fall ill not too long after then. She was already being considered into the foster care system. I really couldn't tell what she thought of this... From the look of it, I don't think the girl thought about anything. When she answered questions for the people about herself, she didn't seem to go into much detail. A lot of it was vague answers, robotic remarks, along with the upright proper manners that she always had. She questioned who she was going with, and that was the only other thing she mentioned. They told her repeatedly that her aunt couldn't take care of her any longer, and also about what therapy could help with.

Another month passed and Christine attended therapy regularly in order to talk about her mind and what she thinks of to get her mind off of her parent's death. She didn't answer and stared at the therapist blankly, and from what I could tell by the the security tapes, she looked another shade paler as the weeks pass, and there's nothing they could do but give her medications to get her out of her depression.

And the passing of another month, Christine was wiped completely away from the general area. I panicked. She could have killed herself, though I knew she would have never killed herself because she's too frightened... She could have tried. I searched her records repeatedly, and none of it had death of any sort... just that she moved to a home in another area with another family... that quickly. I decided that I couldn't interfere much longer, and I had to wait... and wait patiently—something I was never brilliant at especially when it came to matters of my Christine.

My deep worry made me feel like her parent of some sort, keeping close watch of her when the other guardians couldn't even look her straight in the eye because they didn't know what to say. Her avenging angel at times when something unjust occurred in her situation, and I had to rightly fix it. They wanted to send her to a group home for other children like her... I would have none of that. I knew what it felt like to be casted out and into something even worse. I kept arranging so she could go to more willing foster families... even if it meant sending her away where I could no longer see my darling again.

She came back not but a few years later and Christine turned sixteen. It was her birthday, but it seemed she never received any presents of any sort except for a card from her friend Meg that lived in her home state. I decided once more to intercede, and make sure she was safe. I bought a cell phone and arranged for it to have all information and bills to be sent to me so I could take care of them. I planted it in the room that she was staying in with another twit whose name was Catherine. She was six years younger than Christine, and I could see the unmistakable horror of sharing a room with a little girl in Christine's eyes. She came into her room after every day during school and cried... and cried... until she found the cell phone. You cannot possibly imagine my fascination when her eyes lit up and began to prod into the newfound piece of technology and leisure that everyone except for herself has been able to keep hold of until now. It was I that made her happy in this time of grief... I don't think as long as I lived that I would forget the change in her expression from absolutely dead to filled with life in that split second.

She thought she was stealing it from someone else in the home when she hid it into her bags as she packed away to move onto another home. She used it to call her social worker, Antoinette Giry to take her away, after moaning several complaints.

The next home she moved to had six children this time, and two of them were close to her age, and in almost the same situation as her. She seemed happier there, but not quite... There would always be a fault in where she would go, it didn't matter. Until Christine grows up and goes off to live on her own based off of welfare and whatever pitiful career she chooses to come up with, she might never have that delightful smile on her face, she might never sing with that clarity and hardly faultless voice of hers. When she is finished with the foster care system, she would disappear quickly out of the world and I might never even see her again. I might never have the ability to protect her without scaring the minimal life out of her and her fragility. Her guardian angel would be no more.

I could have nothing of the sort. I swore to myself to protect this angel from the true horrors of the world, and that is what I shall do. I wouldn't let her be crushed and broken down by the pressure, I would give to her life and the ability to do so much more. I couldn't keep on standby any longer and watch her die... I've never had such feelings in my entire life because never except perhaps once in my life had I ever had such a guardian angel that protected me from the problematic societies in this world. It's to be believed that one might never show love and adoration if one was never loved for themselves. This... protectiveness of Christine wasn't just the selfish desire to hear her voice again... I couldn't deny it any longer. When I first saw her open her mouth and sing... I fell in love with the angel's voice. Now... as I witness the angel being crushed in the cruel hand of God's creation, it's to be decided that I love the angel as well... quite possibly more than the voice was ever worth.


	2. Dissonance

**Don't be expecting quick updates those of you that are reading. I wrote this during the span of three days when I haven't had rehearsal and a load of school work. I actually now have midterms to be studying for and all that jazz. Also, I couldn't stand just having one review after two days. I'm already supposing this won't be as popular as my last piece, but that's okay. I'm going to still continue writing just to get my mind off of life for a little while. I would really like reviews though. I know people are reading, just why can't you press that little button and tell some thoughts!!! Is it the writing, the characterization of Erik or what?! I MUST KNOW. Thanks for reading.  
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**~The Phantom's Flutist~  
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_Chapter 2:  
Dissonance_

It simply wouldn't be satisfied... that yearning sensation I feel every time I see Christine's face. One day I may not be able to see it again and in which case... I'm not quite sure what I might do... Sink as low as the familiar depression or perhaps finish off my magnum opus and be finished with life altogether with one large blow of morphine. No... Life can't possibly be finished if God was kind enough to have granted me Christine to save me from my hell. First, I must save her from hers.

My ideas of saving her were scaring myself... I could bring her to my home and care for her instead of those "foster parents" that they insist on taking. They don't help the poor girl, and many simply ignore her because they don't know how to put up with her depression. I can be familiarized with such things, because my entire life I've felt as lost as she has, until now. The only thing that I need to accomplish now is how to win her over.

I couldn't take her yet because this was her last home before going into that dreaded group home where she will certainly collapse altogether in. I had to wait until she was old enough that she might not collapse in front of _me_... I could never forgive myself for such things. Ever. I don't know what I would do if she were to cry in front of me... I had to save these thoughts for when she would be coming here. I knew it would take a few months to prepare. I had to get her new clothes, new everything... I became hot just thinking of it. I would only help with it... Make the decisions Anne couldn't, only support financially, of course. I had to give her only the best and have her completely comfortable so she could tell the difference between what she had been living in to what she comes to now.

But what of the mask? It was the very thing I was afraid of... She would question it and it might frighten her. Her first impression wasn't going to be what it actually was because it's usually not the first thought of many. She might be different... Sometimes I do hope that she would question it because maybe if she didn't... I might have lost her completely. She's not the little girl anymore, I knew that... In fact I witnessed her turn into a young woman... a very _beautiful_ young woman... The angelic voice is no longer housed by a acne-faced, clumsy, and timid fourteen-year-old. The middle of this summer would be before her eighteenth birthday, and it was then that she would be put out of the foster care system entirely. I had to take her before then... but how?

It didn't take long to figure it out. She had almost been kicked out by the last house she stayed in, and it was the time that she was going to the group home no matter how much I bribed the system. They would take none of it. I had to go by a weaker source, one that wanted the best for Christine... I had to go straight to her social worker, Antoinette Giry and convince her to bring her to me. I would not steal her, no matter how much I wanted to. She would be mine soon enough. How much I wanted to hold her... to touch her and make sure she was real, or make her smile... if she would let me, and hear her laugh for myself to make sure she still held the capability to do so. I had everything ready and prepared for her to stay at my home... I would give her lessons every day and teach her music at a grander scale, and give her anything she wanted... I'm sure I would do anything for her at that point.

The day came after what seemed like eternity and it came with me as a nervous wreck. I've been told possibly a thousand times or more that first impressions stay with a person as long as they remember. Unfortunately, I've never been able to come up with something as convenient as making my own first impression in a positive light. This impression, however, was most likely the most important. She would be arriving at around noon, and it should be raining, and my butler would be going out to grab her bags with an umbrella for her and send them to her room as I would be obliged to show her my home. I had to warn myself of how she might react with intimidation, or probable nerve, but... it did not matter to me. She would be _here_ stepping foot into _my_ home, and that's all that mattered.

I reasoned with myself all sorts of things that I knew would never go over with myself the moment she steps foot inside. It's incredible how much I let my guard down for her... and I've never met her before and yet I know practically everything about her. She shouldn't know that... She should never figure out what I went through in order to create this... obsession of mine...

The small Volvo turned at the corner of the street and the rain seemed to pour down harder as I watched from my office window, her watch clutched in my hand with a death grip, reminding myself of _why_ I was doing this. If I were in any other time of my life, I would take the rain as some sort of bad omen, but since omens never have wronged me before, I shouldn't be quick to judge such things... especially when _Christine_ is involved. The thought of her name made my heart drop down to my stomach, and the nerves kicked back in like an annoying fly that won't ever go away. Would I always feel like this? Is this how it feels to be around someone you adore all the time? Certainly not... though who am I to know?

I came to the top of the grand staircase and waited where no light shown just so I could prepare myself quickly when she first stepped in... I waited for another eternity which is how long this day has been lasting for until she finally stepped into my world... And I never thought that I would take this back, the wonderful moment when I saw her face, her wide brown eyes, and the locks of curly hair that seemed to be dampened by the rain and it glistened when the light of the chandelier hit it just right. I lost all ability to breathe, to think, or move. She was real and beautiful, and, above all, she was _mine_.

She reminded me of a deer stuck in headlights, actually. Her eyes were wandering over the entire foyer, and remained planted on the chandelier.

"Here she is, sir," Damon declared, seeing that I was standing there, as pathetic as usual. It was then that she looked _directly_ to me, her eyes trailing from the railing to my mask. I caught my breath.

"Take her bags to her room, Damon." I ordered, and moved down to where she stood, her eyes never leaving me. She immediately flitted when I moved my gaze to meet with hers for the first time. I never thought of my first words, come to think of it. I actually never thought I would possibly get this far.

"Christine," I began saying her name aloud was simply exquisite in itself, for it's so musical. I astounded her, I could see it in her features. "I've been waiting for you to come. I'm sure you'll find my home very comforting compared to the houses you've been to." She only stared back astounded, still. My voice seems to always have that peculiar effect on almost anyone I meet except for... Well, I'll get into that later. I've always have been curious as to how my voice could bring someone to become obedient, or leave them in a trance-like state. I could never find out. Unfortunately, I would probably lose my voice forever seeming how it's not possible to take out my own vocal chords to study. Anyway, the point is she didn't answer.

"Would you kindly make any acknowledgment that you are listening?" She only nodded.

"Could you say something?" It was slightly comical... which was better than the worst case reaction I could have thought of.

"_Yes_," She replied shortly, "I mean... Sorry, I've never been in such a home before," She said,and gave this adorable blush as her hands folded nervously behind her back.

"It is very beautiful, isn't it?" I muttered, ignoring the fact that this might have well been the first mansion she has ever stepped foot in. She's probably more distracted by me than by the home, judging that she hasn't made another effort to look around. I don't take pride in that.

"Very much," She murmured softly. Her nerve was absolutely endearing, though.

"Would you like me to give you a tour?" I asked, tilting my head to the side...Perfect! Everything was going alright so far. Everything was going to _be_ alright as long as I had my say, and had that strict control over her. She nodded again. "Follow me, if you will." I offered, and she willingly did so.

It was sort of annoying because as we walked, I felt her eyes literally burning a hole in my back as she followed me closely behind as if frightened she might get lost. It was kind of comical in a way, the sudden fear that glinted in her eye when I turned away and she stood sheepishly there, her hands folded in front of her as if she had done something wrong.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked fluidly.

"Yes, I'm fine... just... eager." What an interesting answer. She really was excited, wasn't she? The genuine curiosity was so alight in her motives, and I was overjoyed to show her what I could give to her, shelter and support, and much more... I had to be gentle because she was so breakable. So _easily_ breakable, and I could already tell with my first words with the girl. The unmistakable depression was still there, except I had brought her an enlightening time to come over her.

There was still a pang in my chest every time her mouth hung open when she saw one of the greater rooms to hope that she could like _me_ just as much... that there was someone gracious enough to lend her this much when she was an orphan. And maybe one day, I don't know how soon, she might bring herself to love me just as much as I loved her. Or not... I would be fine with her companionship. Just as long as she would be the one to be the first one to lend some kindly words... To hear from her words of reassurance that I am still human too would let me be content enough to die and be done with my hell. I still wanted more, said the selfish man.

I only let her see about half the house. There are things in this home that... well, I wouldn't want to think I had. Especially with her now keeping residence here. After giving her directions to where the dining room would be and where she will be having dinner and I would give her what she would be going through while she stays here. She turned around and faced me, her mouth agape for the umpteenth time tonight. "Why... why this much? I-I don't even _know_ you..." She shook her head in disbelief, and her hand padded along the comforter of the bed. "Why should you take me in... and give me these things... It... makes no _sense_." It was nice to hear what she was thinking, at least. But I was afraid I couldn't give her an exact answer, but it was enough and it would be truthful.

"I have my... sources in money, and I can do whatever measures it would take to make you comfortable as possible, and it wouldn't cost me much, really." I sighed and watched her cross her arms in something like contentment, I suppose. I suppose I could answer her second question honestly. It's not like I would let her leave me any time soon if she would be frightened. "And... I do know you. You've never met me, but yes, I do know you." I sighed.

I left her to her room, and shut the door behind her. Clutching my sides, I leaned against the wall next to the door, and waited to hear her reaction, rather than see it. Her room would be her privacy, no matter how much work I put into it to make it comfortable. My mother's bed and my mother's vanity would be used, and filled in the drawers, and just about the only mirrors in the house would be kept there... Just about, at least. The other "mirrors" she would never know about. There was a vague reason why they existed, anyway. There wasn't anything that she could communicate with the outside world in there, though.

No books... which was selfish of myself, I admit, because I just hoped that if she ever came to the point that she stayed in her room, it would lure her to come out and I might see her then... She loves books a lot, you see. I remember when she was younger and she just moved in with a new family, I think the only thing that kept her level was a monthly trip to the library. She would come to the house with a backpack filled with books of all sorts, and she would go with the only friend she had. As she grew older, I noticed the school work piled on and she no longer had time to read the dozens of books, and instead read the school-regulated excuses for books. I felt bad for her. I provided her with a better library, though... I can't wait to see her reaction.

I waited in the living room with a book in my hand but not actually reading it. Instead, I felt like a little boy waiting for Christine to come down the stairs and I could speak to her. My heart raced just waiting for her to come... curious to see her visual reaction of what lie in her closet, what was in her vanity and her room altogether. It was a beautiful room, I had to admit. I never had a clue as to why I included it in the designs of the house because it was unlikely I would ever have guests until she came along. I suppose it's part of my natural intuition. Or maybe not. But I thought she would like it very much for it had a wonderful view of the garden below and the shrubbery. It also faced the back yard which was kind of more like a karma thing than anything else. Maybe if she saw the interior beauty, she wouldn't leave. As long as I kept on this perfect mask... she would never be frightened and I might never have to see that look on her face again.

I heard her footsteps pad through the foyer and she opened the door to the living room, and looked inside to survey it as well, naturally amazing her. She then turned to the wrong way to which was the opposite of right. I chuckled to myself as I moved to stop her, but slid back down when she jerked around with a stunned gasp.

"I'm sorry to have startled you."

She backed away, once more reminding me of a deer lost in the light.

"No, it's nothing really... just... easily startled, I guess." She shrugged, crossing her arms again. She did that because it might protect her from any sort of embarrassment. It was the same sort of thing as nudging your ear, or shuffling your feet with her.

"Here, let me give you a hint." I pointed to the door opposite to the one she stood before. "_That_ would be the dining room, and over there, where you are standing, is the music room."

She gave a cute little blush again and this time looked to her hands, as if unable to look at me again in utter embarrassment. I had to contain my laugh. How she amused me!

"No, it's fine. I sometimes get lost in this house too, even though it was I who designed it." I noted, to impress her further. Her entire face lit up and she went into this little anecdote that had related to her father, while complimenting myself during the entire thing. I didn't know this little detail, so I was able to listen while nodding and care, though every word she said to me I felt like I should document. She made this creative metaphor, and every time her father came up in the anecdote I could see her eyes carry a light that I haven't seen produced in her for all these years... God, how it is beautiful...

"Well, many thanks, as well. I'm glad you enjoy it." _You have no idea._ She seemed to let it drop,

"Might I escort you to the dining room, then?" I questioned. She shrugged. Good, at least she was getting more ways of responding. I outstretched my hand to let her take it, looking into her big eyes. When she reached out and touched my hand, it seemed like a jolt of electricity came through me. It didn't last very long because she put her hand back. My hands are unnaturally cold... I think I tried to study that somewhere, and it turns out to be some sort of circulation problem. When her hands were so warm, it only makes sense that she was shocked. "_Oh, _forgive me," I pleaded and put my hand back to my side. They do say cold hands, warm heart. But I suppose it depends on what you would call warm..

It was then that I noticed she was wearing the earrings I once gave her after I gave her the cell phone. Which reminded me that I had to check on whatever she did with that thing. I'm not sure she'll need it any longer because I'm here and the only protecting she may ever need is from myself. I didn't want to think about it right now. I was focused on having a dinner with her. Not like I was going to eat, but still, it made me feel like a man when I held the door for her, when I pushed out her chair, and pushed her in, and then sat down across the table from her.

Once more, I looked at her eyes when they lit up and saw the meal prepared for her. She was simply engulfed by it. She almost immediately dug into it when she looked at me and then her shoulders squared, and she put the napkin in her lap.

"Are you not going to eat?" She asked looking at me expectantly.

"I've already ate." I lied. I actually don't really eat that much. I never found it needed most of the time. When I was young, God help me, my mother actually feeding me was my punishment. Food just never thrilled me. Just like sleep. But that's another story.

"Oh," She stated simply as she did. She bowed her head slightly and muttered something with her eyes closed I couldn't really hear. It took me a while before I realized she was saying grace over her food, and then crossed herself, and began to eat. She was always a strong Catholic. The crucifix around her neck, I don't think actually left from being around her neck. Ever. I knew not to get her many necklaces because she might never wear them. It was still nice to imagine, though.

It was awkward to begin a conversation because she made it very well known that she simply did not being watched while she ate. I couldn't tear my eyes from her... She was sitting _here_ at _my_ table. Besides, I kind of enjoyed the expressions she made. They were cute.

"Don't feel so intimidated. I would like you to feel as comfortable as possible here."

"Can you not... stare at me?" She asked in a rush of annoyance.

"Forgive me," I apologized, looking up to the chandelier, but it wasn't as dazzling as her facial expressions.

"It's fine," She mumbled. Time to move onto a new topic.

"Tell me, Christine, do you still sing?" I asked. She looked at me as if I was speaking another language. She swallowed nervously.

"Sing?" She asked quietly.

"Yes, I heard you used to sing all the time." She was acting as that part of her life where she lit up the stage never happened. She was obviously confused. It was then that I noticed that, no, she didn't forget about most of her life. I wasn't supposed to _know_ about most of her life. Well, it's not like she could take off running now even if it's revealed the way I would rather her not. I figured one day, when she developed to warm up to me, hopefully, I would settle her down and admit to her all the wrongs I have done, and maybe, just maybe, she would forgive me and move on with our relationship. It was at this time that I had myself assured she could love me and later return my affections. I should have known better.

"How did you know?" Ah, one of the dreaded questions. I could make a legitimate excuse.

"It was on your application, dear," I lied smoothly, "it's not that hard." She looked befuddled and I could see her beginning to question it, but then let it pass. I think she was much more willing to shoot me down then let something as inconsequential as the possibility I, um, did a little research. She lowered her head and chewed on a piece of lettuce before answering.

"Oh," She whispered dully, "I haven't sang in three years." She sounded so heartbreakingly monotone about it. "You see, sir, when my father died... I think the music that I loved went with him into his grave." She swallowed a sip of her drink. "I'm sorry."

I let the silence pass as she ate. I had to make the offer now until she's made her mind she doesn't want to sing at all.

"You may call me Erik, by the way, Christine." I noted further, trying to at least get as many words out of her as I could.

"Erik," She whispered, nodding. My heart skipped a beat the first time she said my name. Usually when a person figures out my name it's not in such a gentle whisper most of the time.

"W ould you mind if I tutored you?" I'm pretty sure I would mind tutoring an emotionless doll, but it was Christine. She could sing out her depression... Or if she didn't know how, I'm possibly the best person to help her out. I would do anything.

"Tutor me?" She repeated before taking a bite of the meat, her hand lingering in the air.

"That is what I just said," She glared at me, and waited for me to say something that wouldn't ridicule her, "I don't have to," which is an absolute lie. This is part of the reason why she was here! I had to make a substantial offer up front. She must do this. "but I thought it might get your mind off of everything for a while. I find music does that for me, and I've never taken in a student before."

"You're a musician, too?" She was astounded, obviously. Ah! See! I was right. I can bring her enthusiasm out of her because of her father.

k"Skilled in music more over any other, ah, talent of mine, I believe. But, yes, I am a musician... of sorts."

"Like all music? Or just one instrument?" She radiated curiosity. Perhaps this is a problem.

"Just about everything, but opera is my specialty." Well... not everything.

"Opera?" She repeated. I bit my lip to keep from saying another bad response. "Uh... sure... you can teach me."

Success!

"Wonderful."

I don't think I could have taken much more, for I wasn't used to being around her, so I led her to her room when it was getting late. I had the urge to kiss her forehead and bid her goodnight like a parent would... or maybe even a lover... but, of course, that would be forward.

Besides, the next day I would have a _full_ day of being with Christine. Well, I have spent full days watching Christine... like the holidays when she didn't have anyone I was there...

I had to go out, though, on business that isn't important to my story. It was another one of those annoying early-morning phone calls that simply beckoned for me to come at inconvenient hours and during these inconvenient times, especially with Christine here. Odds are, she'll be asleep still when I come home. No matter, I came in during the night simply to watch her sleep and put a note beside her bed to let her know I may not be there when she awoke. She would know there are maids here that could take care if there's any emergency which was all fine, but I _really _hated leaving her.

There's something to be said about watching Christine sleep though, all curled up and resting peacefully into the comforter. The way she breathed evenly, and the all-around content feel she had was obviously not something she had in another home. She likes it here, I could tell. She _actually_ does, I think... Maybe she liked me, as well? I felt like a little boy receiving a new pet for the first time—they either liked their new habitat or the peculiar little boy was going to be devastated. Christine, of course, wasn't a pet. I loved her more than I love Ayesha of course.

I watched her for a good hour, and before I left, I wanted to stroke her face, and comb her hair out of her angelic face, but I was terrified of touching her. What if she awoke somehow and found me in her room after I had told her I respected her privacy? Also, touching her would be a dramatic sin... How could I touch someone as perfect as Christine with my ugly self? It was just unreasonable. It was like a big ugly caterpillar falling in love with a butterfly. It makes no sense. I chastised myself, and moved out of her room, leaving the note behind for the following morning.


	3. Allegro

_Chapter 3_

_Allegro  
_

When I came back home, I had to restart my emotions over again. I wondered if last night had been a dream, she was never there, and she wouldn't be up and dressing when I got home? But of course, that was ill-thought of me. She was there, of course, and eating her breakfast Anne had made her.

"Good morning, Christine," I greeted lightly, coming through the dining room door. It made her jump, I could see, because her arm twitched as she took a sip of her milk.

"Morning," She replied, after choking down her milk. She looked angry. I smiled.

"I'm sorry for startling you again," I replied, taking off my hat, and resting it on the opposite end of the table.

"It's fine," She huffed, "But can you not do that again? It's like you walk through walls or something." She was so light about it, I found it amusing despite what she thought I was thinking. She probably couldn't tell. See? One more reason to have a mask. As to not embarrass myself ninety percent of the time. "I don't mean to be offensive..."

"It's not," I replied shortly, and let my amusement drop. "What would you like to do today?"

"Could I hear you play?" She asked curiously. I was startled, and perhaps I made my answer the wrong impression, for she was anxious to do so.

"For our lesson, perhaps, I might play something for you." Truth was, I had to put away my magnum opus before she even begins to question my work to avoid her further curiosities. She nodded as if to obey me, and I left it at that. She then shrugged and shook her head.

"Very well. You'll have a lesson in the next hour." I said shortly and got up from the table, pleased with myself to host a conversation, if but a short one. I was then that I was very sure of myself that I could have her fall in love with me such as I am. Falling deeper and deeper into the evil, cruel thing they call love every time she speaks to me. She has nothing else to think of me except for a man. A rich, powerful man at that, and it was attractive because she has never been involved with something like this in her life. I didn't mind if it could be something like shallow love. It is the thought that one day she would kiss me in a beautiful wedding gown, and takes the place of the faceless woman in my dreams that keeps me alive. Beautiful Christine. _My_ beautiful Christine.

The lesson went over very well, I thought. She sang, but... it's like forcing a lifeless doll to move, you have to brace it in order for it to work its full performance. She had no emotion when she sang. The scales were hurting my everything... She listened to me like it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. She forced herself away from music for so long that she began to no longer see it like she had before. She no longer had that startling insight, the passion, the heart... It was taken away, like she said, down with her father's grave. One of the few things I can't do is bring humans back to life, no matter how much of a twisted illusion it might be, but what I can try for the first time is to breathe life back into a dead soul just as she had to me when I saw her. It was a task I had to take, even if it could be annoying and painful on her own part. But... I loved her. Maybe if she knew that much... perhaps she would no longer have that dead voice. It could be for the worse, I knew. It was a risk I was willing to take. I can suffer until she's comfortable. It is all for her.

I sent her back to her room, reminding her that we will have lessons every day. She looked at me as if I was speaking another language by the end of her first lesson, and was... well, surprised.

"You mean every day!?" She asked exasperatedly.

"Well, yes. If you want to work on your voice, it must be consistent." She widened her eyes and began to shrink beneath my eyes away from the piano bench.

"I'm going to my room... to... read..." That was my goodbye until lunch time, I supposed. She walked quickly and tensely out of the room, leaving me to the vast nothingness of the room. It was strange because I used to think of this music room as a shrine for myself... It used to fill my days of endless glory and greatness as my greatest work began to piece itself together. Now, her presence has graced the room... when she's gone, it become just a room, homed by nothing except for the magnum opus which stores itself in a locked drawer, away from any human eyes.

Annoyed with myself for letting her go away alone, I picked myself up and began toward her room, thinking that she might want to start a conversation. She always was social despite whatever happened to her, very much unlike myself. She needed people around her constantly even when they were the worst company to be with like little twits or stuck-up teenage girls whom she loathed. I hated whoever made her curl up in a ball in the middle of the room and cry.

I heard her voice just up the stairs, and it sounded as if she was talking to herself. It was then that I immediately forgot that she had the cell phone I had once given her. It's probably incredibly worn, but evidently still works and is being effectively used. She wasn't talking to herself... once more, the girl isn't a female version of myself. Christine is yet to strike that low in her depression. No... what was going on was much worse.

"Raoul! Oh, my God! Raoul! How did you get this number?" Was her ecstatic cry.

Dammit. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Dammit.

It was the boy she was once enthused with in her early teenage years. I never actually have seen him except that time after her Christmas concert three years ago. He moved away after her father died and before then I didn't watch her as closely. Evidently she still kept in close contact with him judging by the way she spoke.. I've seen her talk with him plenty of times, but I only thought of it as a friendship. I knew that at one point she considered him as a boyfriend, but it was something that every teenage girl goes through. He wouldn't stay around very long, I considered, because it was hormones... right? No. This is much more. Much worse than the original intent I had given myself. I'm sure he's very handsome, and he's her age... and he probably had nothing to do with music, or what I could give to her. He moved away, and _I_ was always here.

"Where are you?" She asked, and I heard her lighten up excitedly. Okay, _so_ he's _back_. Damn the world.

"I think I'm near there..." She sighed, unsure in reply, "Listen Raoul, my new guardian is pretty strange. I may just have to ask him, and I'll call you back when I get an answer, okay?" At least she planned on asking, but inside it hurt me more than it should. And "pretty strange" as a description didn't even begin to describe what more I could come off as being, so that was also a plus. Of course, she had no right of knowing anymore. It sounded as though she could have been talking to her friend Meg, except it was a young man which was different. Why couldn't he have left her alone?

I heard her footsteps pad toward the door, so I fixed myself so I wouldn't portray the wrong image. Everything was going so fine up until that wretched boy called her... I should have destroyed the cell phone when I knew she was coming here.

"You did it again!" She screamed, backing back into the room after practically running into my chest.

"Are you going to ask me something?" I asked briskly. I looked carefully to her to see that she understood that I listened to every word.

"I haven't seen him in forever and he just moved here... Could I see him tonight?" She asked quickly as she played with her hands. This was the most alive I've seen her yet. Her eyes were hopeful, very light. It was hard to break it, but when I knew the reason, I had to intervene.

"No." I said simply. I knew I had enough control over her in order to restrain her even if she began to rebel. She had to stay here because she had to be with _me_.

She looked very shocked, and began to glare. I could smile that she was so full of fire. She then leaned back and crossed her arms. "...And why not?"

This might not be as hard as it could have been. "How could I know to trust this boy?"

She began to get mad... I could see it. It was so adorable, though, despite the fact she was becoming angry with me. "_Excuse me_" She hissed softly.

"Christine, I implore you to calm down. You may see him some other time." That was the first lie. Or was it the second? Maybe I shouldn't keep track, it's bringing me down.

This hit home, I could see. Her cheeks flamed red and she looked as if she might begin to cry. This was going too far. "You're not my father, you can't tell me what to do!" Her fists clenched by her sides tightly as if she would begin to fall if not. I had to soothe her. She couldn't cry... I told myself I wouldn't make it if she began to cry. But I just couldn't let her go right now... not when I just received her presence.

"Yes, Christine, it is true I'm not, but dear, I am your legal guardian right now and I can tell you to do what I wish for you to do. I just told you you may see him soon!" Maybe that was the wrong thing to say! How should I know?! It's not like anyone has ever comforted me before! I should have learned how to talk to her before actually speaking to her. All I do is say the wrong things because there are no right things on my mind! I began to panic and my hands balled into fists to refrain from nervously playing with them.

"Look, Erik... Raoul is one of my only friends... The least you can do to make me comfortable _anywhere_ is to let me see him... Let me see him and I'll do whatever you damn well want me to do." She begged, but that was the first time I've ever heard her curse. She _really _wanted this... I just... I, well, _couldn't_.

"I'm afraid I can't let you." I said dryly.

"_What_?" Her voice cracked so it was barely a whisper.

"Don't be a child, Christine. You need to grow up, and you need to learn now." I said shortly, swallowing my newly made emotions whole.

"I _hate_ you," she barked, which was like a punch in my stomach. It almost knocked me backward until she shut the door on my face. She didn't mean it, I told myself. She was just being ridiculous. I stayed near the doorway, clutching my sides, as I heard her begin to cry against the door. If I could name the worst sound in the world, it would be this, the sound of her crying... And this time it was because of me. I couldn't see her for a while for I didn't think I could get over myself if I witnessed her sobbing in front of me. I locked the door... it was one of those things that could lock on either side so we both had our own way. I didn't think she liked this when she found out. She began to slam on the door with her fists. On the ground, kicked aside was her cell phone outside the door. I sighed, and picked it up knowing now that this wouldn't cause any more problems.

"You can come out when you get over this, Christine!" I called out as I began to walk down the hall, still clutching my sides as if it would stop the harsh pain. If she was going to act like a child, she might as well be treated like one. I learned this "parenting" tactic from a man who was like a father to me... but none of that now.

She called after her cell phone as well, after complaining about being locked in her room. It's not like I was going to give it freehandedly back to her. No, she wasn't going to get it back. I kept it in an office on the upstairs, thinking if she would be that clever as to find it sometime, she may. But currently, I wasn't worried.

I stayed in my music room and began to compose. No, it wasn't my opera, it was actually something for Christine. She had wanted to hear me play for the lesson, and I told her I would, but I was too distracted to remember it. Maybe playing something special for her might let her forget what has happened between us. I probably was in the music room for the better part of five hours, trapped in something like a haze. It was short compared to my other times when I compose which could go on for days, and even, at one point in my life, weeks. With Christine around, I had to entertain her during those times where I isolate myself. She must be starving!

I hurried to her room and knocked on the door.

"May I come in?" I questioned to whats seemed like the door only, for there was no movement, no sound coming from the room. I waited a few moments, and when all I received was silence I began again, "Christine, answer me." I demanded. Again, silence. Panic overcame me all too quickly. It wasn't like she could have escaped... but she might have done something worse...

"Christine, are you even in there?" I asked at length.

"Go away," She rasped. I sighed in relief.

"Let me make it up to you, I really did not mean to be so cold to you earlier. May I please come in?" I figured asking nicely might win her over at any time.

"Did you not hear me? I said go away. You are not my father, and you're not my parent. I've only known you for a little over forty-eight hours and I already hate you. If you value my sanity so much, I would like it very much if you go _away_." She made a nice little speech, and she sounded rather tired. I should have had food brought to her. I could tell she needed _someone_, though. And I couldn't provide her with anyone else except for myself, so I made my way in to give my apologies once more, and prove to her once more that she can be happy here.

"Could you forgive me once more, Christine? Just once more, and I promise I will leave you alone."

"Why do you bother asking to come in if you're just going to barge in here anyway?" She huffed, besides the subject. It's like she doesn't actually listen.

I had to resist rolling my eyes at her, so I bit my lip. She was being deplorable... And I couldn't believe I could bend her so that she was that way just because I didn't let her see her "boyfriend." She was being ignorant, but I knew it wasn't like her to stay that way. There had to be something...

"Why do you wear a mask?" She asked out of the blue. Really, she always has done that to me. She asks the wrong questions at the wrong times. I mean, it's not like I'm going to answer them. I ignore them as best as I can and then move matters along to more important things other than the... faults... that I have been cursed to bare.

"That is a question reserved for another time." I replied shortly, though she still looked at me... well, the mask, in a peculiar way. I had to be more careful now than earlier. Last time a beautiful young girl forced the mask away... Well, you know what? I don't think I should tell you. These endings are never very pleasant and would never be acceptable for a table conversation. Anyway, I resumed with normal human tendencies like food. "Are you hungry?" She looked at me with narrowed eyes, once more like it was the last thing she wanted to do. "You could either eat downstairs with me, or remain up here on your lonesome. It's your choice." I offered.

She surveyed her choices for a moment, and then looked away from my mask. "I'll be downstairs in a second."

I nodded and left her room, once more in a let-down mood. How often was she going to be like this? I was left alone once more to think on myself which is something I should sway away from. Usually the most depressing situations come up, and I don't think I should think of them, especially when I have high hopes for Christine.

The next few days were filled with contemplating whether or not I should actually let her go see the boy. She was back to the way she was before she came to my home. She sang worse than the first lesson, and it only went down from there. It annoyed me that I wasn't able to be the best for her, that I wasn't _everything_ she wanted, but I suppose that there is no such human being besides maybe her father that could provide that happiness to her. She's a very dependable person most of the time, and I suppose she put all her trust onto her father, and never let it die. It's_ really_ ill-thought of me to win it over with a boy on the other end. Who do I think I am, anyway?

She was awfully silent and pale. She marveled at the books, though. As long as she had her books, she was content. I had to keep that in mind. It still wasn't enough. I wasn't about to hand her over to the mentality that I had seen her in before, though. No matter how much she denies it. No matter how much she has ever denied it, now that I think about it. She doesn't like to downplay herself.

Well, it wasn't until one day that she actually began to act up again. She was very light and actually smiled when I asked her opinion of something one day while engaging in a rare conversation with her. She then went forth and asked me questions. Have I ever told you how much I hate questions?

"Do you have a last name, Erik?" I loved when she said my name though. I don't think anyone has ever said my name so light-heartedly as she has said it. Usually it's articulated unpleasantly. I contemplated on answering. If it would make her content, I could keep it vague.

"I have many." It was true. I filed myself under many last names when something like a surname was absolutely required to get through.

"What do you mean by that?" She cocked her head to the side and looked at me with those wide, curious eyes that I find very dazzling... "you can have only _one_ last name that your father has."

"I never had a father."

"Everyone has a father."

"I never_ knew_ him." My father left right after I was born. He couldn't stand my mother. I couldn't blame him, because quite frankly, I could never put up with her myself. I'm glad they departed their ways like they did. I'm also very glad on how my mother departed the earth like she did. I won't tell you why or how though. Maybe later.

"But you had a mother, right?" She pressed on. That little inquisitive girl!

"I never had a mother," I sighed. But the way she looked at me was terrible. It was like she was about to say sorry, but forbid herself not to. I looked away and thought of anything lighter I could give to her but found nothing. My mother was cruel to me. She had her reasons, but sometimes I don't believe they were enough.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked. She looked rather guilty.

"Bad memories," I explained quietly.

"I'm sorry," She replied immediately.

"I'm fine, Christine. You were curious, and I can hardly blame you for that."

She then went forth on an indecent subject as if ignorance was just waiting to come in line. You should think that the way she treated me would turn me away from wanting to take care of her, but it's only drawn me closer to her. Someone would never have done the same to me. Well, some would. Actually, I could count those peoples on one hand, and not even use all the fingers...

She asked about her cell phone, of course. She really wanted it back, and accused the obvious who have taken it. I liked to play her on, though. The angry flush always built up the the point her entire face turned a delicate red, and it was very... Well, let's say that no matter how annoying it could be that she insists on accusing me of every missing thing in her room, it's safe to say I love seeing her angry. When she got further into detail, she wanted to know why I kept her here, and then promised a curfew, but I could only decline. A little voice inside me just wanted to see her this worked up again. If only I could hone this anger toward her singing, she wouldn't be such a dead thing! I found that in case she gets out of hand, I could use my voice to calm her down, but it only made her dislike me more because it was out of her control.

"I hate you, hate you, hate you!" She spat at me. The same words of my mother. It's strange how things seem to take their turns with me. First my mother, and now my only love... At least I could have power over the second one.

"You don't mean it." I muttered, watching for any sign of change. I tried to swallow my greater sadness to keep from getting on my knees and begging for her mercy.

"I do mean it!" She argued hotly. "I don't understand you at all! Just tell me the truth for once because I can see that you're hiding it! You hide your _face_ and over half this mansion from me and I need explanation. Why did you take me in when nobody else did? _I want to know_!" She pleaded now. I had half the mind to tell her everything because of the way she put it, and she was correct in all of it. I couldn't pass all these lies through her and not expect questioning. I just didn't think I'd get character out of her so easily. Just the thought of not being able to live with myself if she kept pleading like this to me with tears threatening to fall again and once more, because of me.

"You want to know, Christine?" I asked silently, looking at her playing with her hands, and looking like a kicked puppy because of my response. I don't think she was expecting it. She nodded slowly, biting her lip to restrain that one tear. I did what my greedy part of my mind told me to right then, because it felt that if I touched her, she would feel what I felt, or at least start to understand. I grabbed her little hands in mine, and felt my heart drop to the bottom of my chest at the forced touch.

"Know, Christine... That I care for you very much, and it would pain me very much to see you harmed." Which was incredibly true, and she looked even more disgusted, and tried to pull her hands back yet she paused, her eyes meeting with mine again.

"I don't _know _you." I could sense the instant surprise and disgust that my words took onto her. I sighed... so it would be like this.

"I know," I whispered just enough that she could hear it. I pulled her hands by force to my covered lips, just briefly smelled the scent of her skin for the first time, leaving me useless to my own yarn, and let it drop on her own accord. It was obvious that this crossed lines. She was utterly repulsed, and I immediately chastised myself once more in my head for even thinking about touching her so. She backed up and so did I, the nerve of more rejection making me feel even more sick to my stomach. She turned and ran, and turned her head just in time to see me bothering to go after her, but her expression seemed to take me back. She left me to this living room, with only music, a book, and the fire to keep company with. As always.

* * *

**Sooo tell me what you think. I figured I should put the note at the_ end_ so then I might be able to remind you to review. Now it's time for you to do so. So go on... review! You could answer questions such as-- Is the character not quite right? Perhaps it's not floating your boat, is there some sort of thing I could do to make it better? I would really like some answers. Four reviews... not enough. **


	4. Phrase

_Chapter 4:_

_Phrase_

"_Some people never say the words 'I love you' It's not their style to be so bold. Some people never say those words: 'I love you' but, like a child, they're longing to be told."  
_Paul Simon

It's times like these where I appreciate loneliness to some extent. I don't have to see her anymore, don't have to put my first impressions on the line, and don't have to mess up repeatedly. To then face the nerve and horror of having her so disgusted with me. What could I have done to deserve this?

Ah, I remember. It's because of that damn boy she immediately hates me. It's about time to change the circumstances around her. This game is already being played quicker than I would have imagined, but may it be so. He might just die off when he can't keep up. I told him she didn't need him anymore, to sever them further, and hopefully it might not rebuild itself just as easily.

I knew what was going to happen next. It was time for fresh air, new scenery, and most importantly, time to play the cards a little more. I told the servants I had more errands to run, especially the maid named Anne who had most of the story, and she was also going to come in and change Christine's sheets while Christine refuses to come down.

I was very good at this, you see. Too many times before I've been told I could very well be an actor if it wasn't for one important factor regarding an appealing visage. Christine fell under it just as all the others have. I could very much see she was willing to be part of my charms, which have worked to my advantage several times like most people. Somehow, I wished she wouldn't. I love the fun of a challenge once in a while, and I thought that, of all people, she would be a little more stubborn. I was wrong. At least I was proven wrong.

She came to breakfast with a delightful little smirk on her face and a jutted chin. She obviously knew what she was doing which was nice to see, though I knew the little smirk on her face was to ridicule me. She didn't speak, though. Maybe she was scared to. She wasn't the greatest actress.

I'm pretty sure she thought I wouldn't think she would leave. But she didn't know that I knew her better than that. Her attempt was amusing, but it didn't work. All I had to do now was "leave" and watch her creative little scheme unfold.

A game of cat and mouse was just what I needed to get my spirits high.

I watched from the side of the house she complained about not seeing, if you know what I mean. I won't explain the entire process to you, but maybe some other time. Right now, all that matters is what she was doing and how I was going to stop her. Eventually.

She searched for her phone to begin with. She looked everywhere, into places I pointed out to her, and Anne had pointed her to. I have to admit that... I didn't actually think this through thoroughly enough to think of what she might find on her venture to find her missing cell phone. What she saw unsettles even myself. I never even thought I would ever show it to her, actually, because she would probably walk out instantaneously. Over time, I had my muse with some things, to keep my mind occupied when she wasn't physically close. So, I took her things. It's simple as that. They're things that she would forget about in the long run, that I wouldn't think she would care about but I would take them. It's that simple, okay?

She found her cell phone fortunately just when I had begun to think she might never think enough to find it. I knew whenever she was to see me again, things would be _very_ different. I had to accept that she was now scared of me, judging by the way she looked when she turned from Anne, and she was very pale... more so than she already is. It angered me more than it should have.

To push it even further, she finally called her friend... I just wanted to assume they were only friends so badly that it hurt, but the way they were now talking-- her relieved voice and his soothing tone made my heart twist. When would she ever allow me to soothe her like that? To let my words touch her such as his did? I began to hate the boy then, and I've rarely even seen him. Whomever won over Christine's heart before I got to her surely deserved crucial hell, for it was like losing a race and not being able to win that grand , the loser would remain uncared for and left behind while the winner strides away with the fair maiden. It just wasn't fair.

My anger only wanted their separation to be driven even further down the drain. I wanted it to be uncleanly and just as hard as it was for me to already lose Christine when I just had her in my grasp. He could suffer just as much as I did, though I doubt he could suffer more. He has plenty of choices out there... why choose _my_ Christine?

Anyway, I followed Christine and my driver with my own car. She wouldn't tell the difference from afar, and I made sure of that. They went to a restaurant in the small old city of Annapolis, and I stood there and waited and watched with their seats in the window, I could see every smile and every laugh that they both shared. Every single one of them tore at my chest, and the most jealous feeling was overcoming me such that I felt sick, and where "green with envy" takes on a more literal meaning. I could do absolutely nothing for the longest time until they both paused and looked to the tree I had climbed up to hide in, and I froze just as easily as I hid.

I could no longer stand any of this. I had began to wonder why I let her do this in the first place. I suppose if I didn't, she wouldn't have any sort of closure with her childhood sweetheart and she would never get over it. Until she realizes I can provide her with so much more than that insolent boy, she was going to have to understand and get over it. I couldn't have it any other way.

I called her cell phone and watched her eyes become dead and hollow at the very sound of my voice, looking to the boy nervously and excusing herself.

"Who is this?" She asked, her voice shaking and weak.

"You know who this is, Christine. You've disobeyed me after I strictly demanded you not to see him. Now, retrieve your purse and step outside."

"Erik you're taking this too far, I beg of you..." She pleaded, her voice cracking already.

"You have done enough!" I couldn't restrain the nagging anger at my sides. She was a stupid girl! Why would she think I wouldn't be there? Why would she think me that stupid? The look on her face... How I hate that look! She was a beaten dog! "Do as I say or I fear for your little sweetheart." It was an empty threat, I admit. I wouldn't touch him because then Christine would never, ever forgive me. I would be stuck with an empty angel in my arms... I would rather die.

"Don't you even think about harming him! You sent those awful text messages beforehand which was uncalled for and horrible of you... why are you _doing_ this to me?"

_Because I love you!_

I only heard stifled sobs then, and words that I couldn't quite make out due to the damn service, and she was holding her hand to the speaker. I could only watch now as I then waited in the car out front, and what I saw is something I regret for even looking. Through the glass windows, and into the restaurant I saw the two of them, Christine's eyes red with tears and his awfully worried... And he held up her chin... And I witnessed the second worst thing than seeing that this boy was particularly handsome and pretty-faced and everything I hoped he wouldn't be to her. He kissed her and she kissed him back just as passionately. It was no innocent little kiss... a kiss on parting, a kiss on coming, no... Instead of revulsion, anger took the place of it.

She unsteadily came out of the restaurant with her purse slung over her shoulder, her makeup now messed up and at a complete disarray. I pulled her into the car against the force she applied against it. She stood no chance over me as of most humans... females particularly. But off that subject. The point was that her face was so red and angered she looked as if she was about to do something horrible right then and there. That was the same face I saw when she was about to slap the little girl away from her at her last foster home, a restrained violent urge. All that mattered was that she was now in the car with me, and she wasn't about to go anywhere except back _home_.

"Why do you do this?" She sobbed.

"You disobeyed me and went against my wishes for you not to see him." I stated indifferently.

"Why could I not see him? Are you_ jealous _of him?" She spat disgustedly. I ignored it with all my power and gave her something that was more reasonable than what I was tempted to spit out.

"He doesn't deserve you, Christine," I stated simply.

I could feel her eyes staring directly at me, her jaw open in utter disbelief. She had so much more to learn...

"..._What_?" She gasped.

"Put your seatbelt on." I ordered. She did so obediently and finding myself not being able to piece much more together and talk in meaningful sentences, I did the only thing I could have done and lulled her to sleep with my voice. She groaned repeatedly in protest, but she had no such defense. She looked so much more beautiful now. No longer was her delicate face grimacing with stress and hatred, but a sincere and peaceful sort of air to her pretty self.

I drove home with the comfort that her arm was now sliding near the armrest just where I could reach out and touch it without bothering her... and I let myself imagine. And oh, how I imagine things... I imagined that it had been a long day and I was now taking my wife home... my _wife._ She was very tired so she fell asleep while in the car. I gathered my wife into my arms, feeling her delicate weight as I carried her into our home. Her head even unconsciously shifted over against my chest. My heart pattered so loudly when she did that, I feared she might wake or stir.

I laid her gently onto her bed and carefully took off her shoes. Cradling her into my arm, I pulled up the covers with the other to her chin. Everything I did made my heart skip with utter joy of simply being able to touch her without her looking at me with big terrified eyes, or simply disgusted and annoyed as my mother often had with me. Everything was forgiven for now, and I didn't care if she kissed the boy in front of me or not. It was I who has won this time, and I shall bask in the glory of it the rest of the night. This doesn't come often. I wiped her hair out of her face and watched her sleep again for most of the night. Despite the peaceful air, she looked very tense her face looking almost scrunched up and unpleasant. Oh, how much I wanted to let her be in my arms for once and soothe her wrinkled brow.

I couldn't really restrain it anymore. Every time she was mad, every time she told me how much she hated me, I could only love her more... she was showing promise of redemption from her depression. Maybe that term I give to her might make it clear and also an explanation of my actions... She would not be going anywhere. It was forward, yes, but I really saw no other way to explain it to her. I sort of hoped in vain that if I told her that I loved her, she might respond positively... perhaps. If she found out there was one other person, one other loyal guardian there besides her deceased father, she _might_ take it in with open arms. However, I did just steal her from her boy... I sat there warring with myself while watching her sleep... it is a wretched thing to have two voices talking against each other in your head at the same time. Not a habit you should keep around.

It was in the early morning she began to awake after a restless sleep, her eyes searching the room sporadically as if it was new territory, until they landed on me and froze. I swallowed hard.

"Leave me alone," She moaned. That was the last thing to my mind. I had to state my story and be done with what I wanted to achieve here. No matter how harsh it might turn out to be, rejection was the first thing to expect... but it would all be true. And I would mean it... all of it. I've never been more sincere about anything in my life.

"I didn't actually think you would leave, you know. I thought you might have the right bit of logic to sense that you can't escape me.

"Did you drug me or something?" She asked quietly, once more ignoring her faults. It was a good idea at some point and her give something to have helped her sleep during the night, but too late now. I wouldn't do that to her anyway. Sometimes there's bad reactions... I wasn't ready to act as her hospital...I could never see her that way while knowing it was my fault.

"No," I answered lightly.

"Then what did you do?" She asked.

"You're very curious aren't you? It's not that complicated-- I sang thusly you fell asleep."

She didn't really buy it and looked at me strangely. "I want to leave. I want my cell phone so I can call Ms. Giry so she can take me to that foster home. Please, I just want _some_ dignity..." She was begging me now. It was actually not what I wanted to hear at all. I was expecting more questions, but no such luck. If she has her dignity, is it not fair that I should maintain mine? We both win or we both lose. That should be the way it works in a better world.

"I'm afraid you can't do that."

"Why not?" She asked, her voice very small. She looked, once more, like a kicked, lost puppy. Her eyes wide, slightly angry and at the edge between wanting to do something about it and keeping quiet.

"You've only began to know what I can do for you. You can't leave me yet, Christine..." I explained slowly. I wanted to make her understand directly... I just wanted her to know _everything_ without her being scared, and what I wanted was screaming to be let out. I had to take it slowly.

"All you've done is have me fear... I've never been so scared in my life." At least she was being truthful, I'll give her that much. I seem to have that effect on people. Either it's the mask or the voice... or maybe both. Strangers don't take much liking to a man in a mask. Thus the story of my life. But I had to accept that that was exactly what I was to her... a stranger. Nothing more, nothing less. Once more, if she knew everything, she would understand how I am much more than that. I've always been there, she just didn't meet me yet.

"I don't want you to fear me, Christine. I care for you very much and I would never _ever_ harm you."

"You've failed..." She stated dryly, carelessly. It tore at my heart. I could hardly breathe. "You've harmed me in the most unimaginable way I never knew I could _feel..._And you know what else? I don't think I've ever hated a person more than I've hated you." She said that so passionately, this time with reasons on her side, I couldn't keep myself together. It was far too difficult, and this incident is why I know I should never do this to her again.

"Oh, Christine," Her name was almost like a reverie. "Christine, no, no... I've never wanted you to be that way. I'm so _sorry_... so _sorry..." _I felt warm tears dripping down my cheek under the mask. They stung. I couldn't remember the last time I cried... I suppose it's not an attractive sight- to see an ugly man crying which is probably why I've never actually cried that much. Christine, of course, wouldn't know how much of a horror it might be to her to see an ugly man crying at this point. She probably doesn't even know it, much less understand it. It's okay for now. I'll be fine, eventually.

I reached up to her face, curious to see how she might react... I thought if my voice was gentle enough, maybe she might let me touch her. But then, no, because I'm still touching her. God forbid. She let me hold her hand though, as long as it kept it away from her face.

"I will give you _anything _for you to forgive me... _anything_."

I gripped her hand tighter. It is so soft and small... and warm...while mine was so cold. It was like being cold for a long time outdoors until you step inside and when something touches you, that one part of your body is warm while everything else is cold and it gives a shock. It's a surreal feeling when my hand touches hers. Pleasant, if you will.

"Are you serious?" Her voice was surprisingly light and careless, once more. I wanted to yell at her and ask her how blind she was yet she would probably want to do the same thing to me. In fact, I think it's always been the case.

"I have my restrictions." I had to refrain from glaring.

"Like what?" She pressed.

"Name your desire, and I'll let you know." She really didn't like that either.

She asked about my face again. I really shouldn't be surprised, actually. I just had to watch myself from now on. Not like I was going to show her my face willingly. That would be something like Hell or maybe just earning me a spot deeper than what was already reserved.

Then she asked about her things in the office, which I didn't really have a legitimate excuse for so I ranted about her curiosity while she sat there looking like she was going to be sick again.

And then came the dreaded answer, the only answer I had hoped to give. It kind of slipped out. There was no thought, nothing that could consider the actions that were to come after that very sentence. I only knew that there was only one way out through her door and I could let her go. As long as she knew, and wouldn't scream and push me away, I'll be okay to die.

"I... _love you_, Christine." I said slowly, making sure I was actually doing the right thing, to get it off my shoulder, to let her know... I couldn't even look up to her when I said this because I was terrified of what could happen now. "And... I hope that... one day you might be able to come to... love me back, what ever it might take, just... one day... maybe..." I said quietly and instantly felt ashamed for myself. It was really a trying move. When I gave the courage to look up to her, she was only staring back, shocked and irrevelant. She now knew everything, and she wasn't afraid to question the rest of it.

"How long have you been watching me...?" Was it that obvious?

I didn't have an answer other than the truth. She wanted it. Whatever her reaction maybe later, I'll defend myself with what she evidently wanted. Judging by her expression, I don't think she wants it anymore. Lies are so much more beautiful, anyway. "A few months before your father died," I was ashamed.

"How did you find me?"

"I search for promising talent, you see, and you were in that musical with the community theater, and I saw you there with your voice... I longed to help you, but I couldn't seem to reach you. When your father died, you disappeared from my sight, and I couldn't find you until I found you were looking for a new home, I was more than happy to take you in."

That was only part of it, but she didn't need to know the rest. She gave that familiar look, surprised and completely befuddled. I felt bad for her for having to walk into this situation so quickly. I didn't _intend_ on it happening. It sort of fell out. Like an annoying fly or a parasite that sort of gnaws at your bones until there's a vague nothing there except for the words about to spill.

"Okay, you were stalking me?" She began to back away now. Terrified taking a new level. She wasn't afraid, more or less, but she was mortified. The term she used was offending. She needed me to protect her. What horrors of the world could have befell on her with my back turned?

"I wouldn't consider it stalking." It was meant to be a sly comment.

"Oh,_ casually following_, is it?" She snapped, and then gave a strange laugh, "Whatever," She was about to cry, though I could see right through her. She was trying to be strong for herself, fighting the urge to fight me away from her, and then at the same time trying to keep it down enough that she could understand. That's what I loved about her among many things. She tried to be strong, but it failed... and the best part was that she tried.

I explained to her how breakable she was, how vulnerable she was when she interrupted with a snide remark and then shook with her knees folded against her chest, trying hard not to cry, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. I shouldn't have done this. I should have just ignored her to begin with. Now what is she going to think of me?

She asked about Anne, but nothing really happened. It was honestly a good set up, and I lied simply that I discussed it with her, but no such thing went on, besides, it made Christine happy. Sometimes there's things we all have to sacrifice.

"We've set some rules down, it's all taken care of. You're not to worry for their sake, or for yours, as a matter of fact."

She looked astonished once more. After all, one must be punished for not listening. I've learned that far too many times. It was her turn now.

"Since you didn't take advantage of roaming the ground yesterday, I assume you don't need it. Therefore you will not leave the house unless it is my consent and willingness to let you out." Her fist began to curl around a pillow behind her back where I could see.

"That's not fair!" She barked.

"You'll learn, if not already, that life's not fair." She of all people should know. "Now, I'll let you know the other rules after breakfast. I'm sure you're hungry."

She looked at me, her fist turning whiter than it already was around the rim of the pillow.

"I don't want to eat with you," She spat acidly. That wasn't what I wanted to hear. She should have been grateful at the very least I wasn't locking her up again! Somehow she didn't understand the terms now. She tried to run, and I didn't let her go. It's simple as that. However she believes she could fight me is pitiful. I found myself about to do something radical, without even my knowledge of doing so. She turned away as if she expected me to slap her, which hurt. I wouldn't hurt her. God save us if I've even touched her!

"Very well," I tried hard not to do anything more, to yell at her... to do something I will regret later, but I've had enough, and I don't think she needs me right now. I locked her door, and called Anne to prepare her breakfast for her room .She was going to be in there for a while. If this doesn't help anything, I'm not quite sure what will.

I went downstairs to the music room which seems to be my only refuge. I looked at the untouched syringe idly, and then winced away. No, I can't lose myself with Christine here. Yet, Christine was being taken care of... Handling her was harder than any other task I've dealt with. Music without stimulus couldn't help anything except to lose myself, so I went through with the open opportunity.

It was a good day, indeed.


	5. Sforzando

_Chapter 5:_

_Sforzando_

The following day I couldn't stand leaving her for much more time. I originally planned to watch her sleep, but that wasn't going to happen, so I took a glass of wine and sat at my desk, fingering the watch that Christine found out about. She didn't even bother to take it back, so I could only say that it was mine now. The batteries don't even work, anyway.

I told Anne to convince her to speak to me, and tell her again that I loved her, and she looked at me strangely and smirked.

"I can't believe you." She shook her head and continued to wash the dishes from Christine's dinner.

"What more?" I asked. She disproved of almost everything I have ever done. Picking up a pen never seems fit in her eyes. I suppose because she practically runs the house when I'm away which has been a lot of times over the years, she feels needed to run me as well, or at least try to. I couldn't help but feel obliged to her, because if it wasn't for her, this house would never be cleaned, and the house might never have servants to begin with. I've known her ever since I came back to America... But that's a long story for another time.

"That was the wrong motive, Erik."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"How do you _know_, Erik? You can't do that to her, especially at her age." She angrily dumped the dish into the soapy water. I blinked at her. "Unless you honestly love her. For such a dishonest man..." She didn't even bother to finish her sentence, and broodingly scrubbed. I ignored that last comment.

"I _do_ love her! More than anything! How dare you speak to me like that, Anne. If I didn't love her, I would not have brought her here."

"If you loved her, you wouldn't have."

"She _needed_-"

"She needs help. She's a mess."

"She is fine! You should have seen her during our lesson! She hasn't been that filled with expression in at least a year!" It was a terrible lie.

"Yes, but did you see her after you walked out? This isn't a doll you're playing with, Erik. Give her back as soon as possible, or she might turn into just that-- a doll."

"You know nothing."

"Give her back!" She barked suddenly, trying to be threatening as an older woman can with a dish towel.

"I CAN'T" I didn't mean to scream. Remember what I told you about those words escaping? Yes? Perfect.

"And why not?"

"Because she means _everything_..." I sighed, not believing I actually said those words aloud. Anne has that effect on people, just like I have a sort of built-in feature that makes normal people want to run away on instinct. It's all natural... the way of life.

She backed off, her eyes widened, and the dish towel stopped moving. "This is not just an entertainment for you, is it?"

"How dare you think so low of me!" I barked back and stalked out of the room, "And do what I told you to, Anne!" I called back after slamming the door.

I don't even know why I tell Anne the things I do. If I can't write it down, why not tell the maid? She grows on me like Nadir did... in the same parasitic way, yet I keep her around. Only God knows why I do the things I do, for he is the master puppeteer, isn't he? The devil fights over the reins more often than not.

I waited for my darling Christine to come down the stairs. She obviously wasn't in a good mood for she ignored everything I did, and sneered whenever I spoke to her. Eventually I persuaded her to speak a few words, and she did so when I mentioned the idea of having a lesson. She lightened up with meeting Ayesha, even. Her entire expression turned surprised and purely enthused, yet not vice versa. Ayesha doesn't exactly take well to strangers. She simple glared at her, and then trotted out, as I warned Christine.

"And she's very _rude."_ The way she said it made my heart flutter in joy because her sarcasm was back. I couldn't help but laugh _with_ her instead of at her. She looked at me. It was obviously not normal for Erik to be laughing, so I ceased.

She wasn't exactly herself during the lesson, because she was thinking about something else. I could tell not the way she jut her chin out when I turned to speak with her, not the way she blushed when I forced her to pay attention, but she was thinking of something distant. Something I couldn't place my finger on, yet she was staring right at me. I didn't think too much of it. She wasn't in any position to take on the worst and most distinguishable.

She sang indulgently, though, which is a step up. Somehow she got very involved with the music after I explained the plot to one of the arias that she dryly sang beforehand. It was a love story of a duet which she didn't seem to enjoy. She grew increasingly uncomfortable and pale as the song drew on, and though I was very involved with the music, I couldn't help but realize the hand in my peripheral vision was becoming even more white and it began to shake from holding the music up.

At length I looked up to her, awfully worried that she might just faint from no apparent reason. It's just a _song_. Though I meant every word I sang with her, she didn't, which is fine for now... But she looked like she was going to be _sick_. I hate that nasty color on her. I've seen it way too much.

"Are you alright?" I asked suddenly, letting the last chord go.

"Yes, just feeling a little lightheaded... that's it." She waved it off, and dropped the music to her knees, wrinkling the photocopy.

She looked sort of angry and ill at the same time. If she was going to be sick, she was in no position to be angry... This is why Christine just makes no sense.

"I suppose we could resume tomorrow," I hedged. That didn't please her, so she ignored it.

"I think I'm going to read..." She sighed, and put the music back on the piano music stand.

"Wait, Christine!" I called after her as she stormed out, and she only paused by the doorway. I realized what I just made her do... and this is probably why she hates me so still... I forced my feelings to her and it takes so little to overwhelm my poor Christine... She didn't want it to end up like this... how could she ever know that the last person to take her in would love her so? "I didn't mean for you to feel so... uncomfortable..." I whispered apologetically. She didn't turn to look at me, I could see her thinking about it and then stomping to the library... the only room she's ever comfortable in besides her own.

What comes next is something I could never have intended, or predicted... or anything of the sort. It ruined all the bridges I've built with her so far, and burnt them down so that... I couldn't even speak to her anymore. Everything was ruined by one simple mistake.

It was almost dinner time that same day, and since she spent most of the day cooped up in the library, I really looked forward to seeing her lovely face a little less pale, and a little more light. I came in silently, startling her out of the seat she was crumpled up in with a Charles Dickens classic to the point she fell out, but I got there just in time before she reached the floor, a ribbon falling out of the book along with it. She looked at me directly and gave a modest little blush and helped herself up. "Thanks" She muttered, giving into her polite ways. She then began to flip through the page, skimming almost every section in the middle, turning forth and back..

"Christine, your dinner will be cold..."

"Hold on, I have to find the page..." She sighed, and kept turning the pages. I waited a few more seconds, thinking she was just holding me up on purpose. She really enjoyed pushing buttons when she could... which is like me in some ways. The childish longing to make someone snap just because it's hilarious never left.

"You have the rest of the night!" I exclaimed. She gave a sly smile as I dove for the book, yet she was faster for the first time, and she held it below her waist to find the page still, though I could tell she already found it because the bookmark was in place. She childishly fought with me, raising her arms up to get it out of my hold, and then... unfortunately, her arm was up right when I began to bend down...

And the next thing I felt was the cold air passing my face.

I would like to say here... that I'm not what you would consider handsome looking... Actually, when it came right down to it, I could have been handsome, perhaps, if God granted me the wholesome gift of looking alive. God doesn't work like that, I've learned. And I've been snidely considered "the living corpse" for the right reasons, and the wrong heart.

But on these matters... All I remember at this point was the way she looked down to the mask as it dropped, and she was in the awkward position such that I couldn't bend down quickly and fetch it off the ground without her seeing. And slowly... so very slowly, she looked up, and very quickly, her face twisted in absolute horror. Her shrill screaming will ring in my ears until the day I die.

Everything passed by too quickly that I really couldn't keep track of it. A mad rage, and unreasonable ranting, and followed by hatred of both of us right then and there. I don't think I've ever hated myself more than just now. I was _so enraged_, so angry at the world, at her, at me... She would never come to understand because she was human, she wasn't perfect, and she will never be perfect which made me love her more, and the more I loved her the more I hurt... The more I hurt, the worse that it became from her screams and her pleading, I couldn't control myself because she wouldn't. For the umpteenth time in my life, I lost it.

I found myself again amongst a messy library, shelves that have been knocked over, and books that have some pages torn out from the force of impact. For a bitter moment, I thought she had the chance to run, but no, she was across the room curled up tightly next to the wall, her hair in a complete disarray, and she was shaking. She hated me now. She _truly _hated me. The relationship that we had... whenever we had one, was ruined in a matter of seconds because of her damned stubbornness, and proneness to accidents... I ruined her view of me forever...

I was reduced to the worst tears I have ever shed... each one of them burned as the cold air passed by my bare face. I found it hard to breathe as my chest seemed to beat against the necessity.

"You wanted to see, didn't you? You damned prying Pandora, you wanted to see? Oh,_ mad_ Christine why did you want to see?" I asked her scornfully, for I never ceased to know her never-dying curiosity. She couldn't have simply stayed with the knowledge that even though I wore a mask, I wouldn't hurt her. It wasn't her fault that she looked up, that her hand just happened to have knocked it entirely off that easily while trying in vain to reach her book that now lay crumpled somewhere on this floor.

"I didn't..." It was partially the truth, at least. I'm sure she doesn't want to see it _now_. Who would? I had no such courage to look up at her, but through her voice it sounded that she was crying. The angel was _crying...._

"Know... know that it is a corpse that loves you... and _adores_ you... and will never _ever_ leave you!" I rose and fell in one brief aggravated moan. I gathered more words of how much I loved her... though sometimes words do no such justice to what I felt, what she meant... I told her she can't leave me... I would rather wilt over and die than let her go now, I no longer cared for what she wanted. She was _mine_...

She didn't like that very much because I heard her crying even more harshly, while whispering "No" repeatedly.

I went through more words of what could have been comfort if the circumstances took another waltz in the other direction. I assured her she was in no better hands than mine. My heart felt shattered because she's been stepping on it and I let her do it. I would feel this pain if it wasn't for her existence, and all she could do was moan my name. Why should she care now? Why isn't she running? She could leave!

"You must think I'm a monster now..." I breathed, horrified of that very word my mother used to me a long time ago. Her reaction wasn't very different, either. Why in the world could I have thought Christine would be so different?

"Why _me?_" She murmured.

Yes, why her? Her innocence, her purity, her voice, her face, her hair, her hands, her smile...her lovely tears, her screams, her personality, she's beautiful... she's as perfect as any human could have made to be. And it was I to have tried to save her from her own hell as I have been saved from mine because of her. I've never felt anything like I have during these years of watching her, I've never been so protective, so careful about one specific human being. She doesn't want to hear that... There again, she doesn't want to hear a lot of things. "Because I love you more than you could ever imagine... your voice... your _everything_..._ my angel."  
_

I couldn't imagine what it must be like in her shoes, but I scarcely can. I was thoroughly upset with myself to have fallen so quickly, to have failed so completely. I could have handled it so differently, I could have said something beforehand, could have warned her what she was going to witness if anything like that does occur, and then maybe she would try harder to stay away. I could have done a lot of things differently, like not scaring her... I scared her half to death because I was yelling at her... and I made her touch it when she's stated before she doesn't enjoy touching weird textures... not to me, of course. Why would she? I know her so well, I could have planned for this instead of breaking down in front of her.

She murmured my name, and no matter how many times I hear her sadly say my name either out of pity or regret, it will never become old. It will never stop my heart from breaking.

"Show me... your face without fear..." She asked in the smallest voice possible. From my peripheral view, she held the mask, which was quite contradictory. She asked to see it now, and yet she held my mask as if it might shield her just in worst case scenario... Meaning she might become ill, and then what will I do? I'm surprised she didn't have anything else prepared... It was a cruel trick.

She began whispering "_show me" _repeatedly, and pleaded with me as I only dug my wretched face further into my hands. She was asking too much. I debated whether I would or not. Odds are she wasn't leaving... she'll have to see it eventually, and if she pales and runs away, I wouldn't blame her. I was kind of hoping for it, anyway. Just get it over with... let her leave and be done with this terrible thing. I wanted to retrieve my mask and be through. I looked up to her reluctantly after a few more of her pleas in order to do so, and her big bloodshot brown eyes looked at me, filled with tears and utmost regret. There was no disgust clearly written on her face, and if there was, it was well hidden. That wasn't what I was expecting. She didn't turn away, she didn't become pale, and she didn't become sick...

My God, she is the most perfect creature my eyes have ever laid eyes on, though she was crying, though she was upset with herself... I fell to her feet once more.

At length, she offered my mask back, and knelt down so we were literally face-to-face... and I bent my head so she didn't have to directly look. She did the most godly thing, she rested her hand on top of my head and just let it linger there... and she touched me... she touched me...

"Erik..." She began, "I didn't understand you at first... but I think, finally, I do in a way..." That was the greatest thing she could have said to me at that moment. It pulled at my heartstrings a little bit more, though despite what she has done, I reached for my mask and she handed it to me.

"Thank you," I whispered lightly as I carefully placed it back over my face. So she locked eyes with me one more time, wiping away a few more tears, and then it wasn't too long before she turned and ran, burying her face into her hands, and I heard her sob loudly on the way up as I briskly followed after, and she slammed the door to her room. I wasn't going to be seeing her for a while...

I went into the music room and locked the door behind me, falling against the door, tearing the mask off once more and hatefully stared at it, as if it might accidentally catch into flames and burn... How I wanted it to burn...

I found that I couldn't compose much longer, feeling denied of any dignity or inspiration to compose, or to play it out because it wasn't something that music could solve... only _she_ could_. _I moved into the living room and sat down, and simply stared into the fire, trying to think of how my life could end up so terribly wrong.

* * *

**If it mattered, I apologize for not updating sooner. Life has been hectic, messed up, and at times plain confusing. It still is. I once heard that God gave us snow to stop our hectic lives for a while, just to stop and ponder upon its beauty while life remained untouched if not for a day or so. Well, we just received about 3 1/2 feet of snow. Life isn't going anywhere for a very _long_ time. School shall be non existent for the remaining week**, **so I hope to go over this chapter and post a new story this week as long as the power does not go out, and if it does, then I apologize for those that care for an even longer wait. Brighter side- I got a new story. Keep watch for it.**

PLEASE REVIEW. REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW. DO IT. And thank you for reading... you have no idea what it means to me.

And, thanks again to one who wishes to remain anonymous for taking the time and giving me advice. It meant a lot and it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside when people like that help me out when everything and everyone else enjoys ignoring me. It's helped a lot, boosted my confidence, and hopefully I might successfully go through a chapter without making petty mistakes again. 

**Love to you all, and those suffering in this snowmageddon with me, best wishes. **

**~The Phantom's Flutist~  
**


	6. Grave

_Chapter 6:_

_Grave_

_"Trying hard to speak and  
Fighting with my weak hand  
Driven to distraction  
So part of the plan  
When something is broken  
And you try to fix it  
Trying to repair it  
Any way you can"-_

_X&Y- Coldplay  
_

In the state of anguish I was in, I felt it necessary to take it out onto something, but I couldn't find it in the proper way. I locked myself in the music room for the remaining night just to be safe, but ended up breaking one of the wooden music stands in half. I couldn't piece everything together. What am I to do now? How can I make any of this up to her without coming back and finding myself at her feet again? It's not like I have experience with these sort of things. Hell, the last woman to have seen my face landed onto the ground off of a roof thusly convincing myself that everything would turn perpetually bad once a woman sees my face. Despite what she said to me, I knew that things would be different the moment she ran away crying and I'm beginning to think it was just my face to make her do so.

So, what would help her forget the face behind the mask? What would help her to remember I was actually not a living corpse, and instead a man? The way it had been--the way she saw me as a gentleman, not some pitiful _thing_. I took a good deal of time in the library simply sitting there in the corner thinking about what would absolutely please Christine without it be me letting her go.

I didn't have to think too hard for I knew Christine very well. I knew what she loved and I knew what changed her attitude; music. It changes even the weakest at heart. Then, the brilliant idea came up that I should take her to the opera tonight. I'm not sure if she has ever seen one, and it would make sense for her to if she is to be singing opera. I knew her father listened to it a lot, and nonetheless probably has been cultured enough to have seen one. Would he not do the same with his daughter? She must know _something._..

Well, it was opening night, anyway for a production in Baltimore with _Madam Butterfly_. It is something popular, and might have been referenced to her plenty of times. It's not my favorite opera, but if it was, then she wouldn't enjoy it for I might just ruin the experience by my constant critique. No, one day I will take her to it in one of the many great opera houses in Europe, and she will be very pleased then. But for right now, we can make it an outing for the both of us to rebuild.

A _date_.

_Oh_. My palms got sweaty just thinking about it. It's so strange the way I get so nervous with Christine. I don't think I recall a time when I've been so nervous. Maybe once or twice, but it's not the same. Whatever she says is like life or death right now. Yes or no. Yes could define many great things, while no could mean that whatever she has done to try to revive me earlier was all a silly lie so that she could run without me stopping her. My face still means horror for her. And that, I'm afraid, might never change. She no longer viewed my mask the way I would like for her to-an attempt in high hopes that I would have a normal face, that people can look upon it without a second glance, which has always been a failure in the making. Though it's always been an illusion to anyone I've come across, I can't make anyone believe anything they were dead-set not to. It's another impossibility amongst the few that Christine has brought up.

Anyway, to get out of my terrible thoughts that seemed to hurt more, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. It was Christine because there is no other person that should be in this part of the house at this hour. The nerve dawned on me further. What might she do now? Will she grimace? Will she flinch if I touch her? Why is she even up at 5 in the morning anyway? She's never been a morning person. I understand if there's been nightmares.

I stopped asking questions to myself that only set myself up for disaster and I peered into the library once more to find her looking through the rearranged shelves to find another book. Obviously the last one wasn't worth looking for again. I think it's been shredded, now that I think back. She looked deeply distressed, her brow was furrowed as she searched through the titles in vain hopes. I watched her for a while before getting up the courage to go and make myself known. I doubt she'll ever know the trouble she's caused me. She's striped away so many walls away from me, that it's positively very hard to rebuild after years and years of hiding. And she's only known me for a _month _take or give a few days.

"Christine?" I called into the room, causing her to jump. She turned around quickly, her eyes big and cautious, as if she did something bad. "What are you doing at this hour?" I asked, and she simply shrugged, as if it was normal for someone who deeply enjoys sleeping in like her.

"I woke up randomly and couldn't go back to sleep," No nightmares, as far as my knowledge goes. I didn't hear her crying, at least. Not like some nights. "So I came downstairs and wanted to read. I think I'm going back upstairs now." She began to move toward the door.

"Wait," I called before her hand reached the door knob. "Please stay down here... please?"

She frowned."I'm going upstairs," she replied defiantly.

"How could you want to stay up there?" I challenged. How could anyone want to be locked up somewhere? Unless they have no better options, that is. And as much as I think against it, I could hope she'd rather be with people rather than being alone like she has spent the last few years. I could hope I might be a better way to go in search of company, which is why I don't put bookshelves in her room. But, as always, my hopes are deferred. "Do you hate me so?"

She sighed, annoyed. "I don't _hate_ anyone_._" She's way too innocent to do so. She huffed, "And I don't hate you." That's positive. At least she doesn't hate me. As long as that's set, perhaps we can begin to work away from the terrible things... She looked at me... directly into my eyes, though mine were downcast, as if trying to search for understanding.

"When will I be able to leave?"

The question infuriated me. She tells me she doesn't hate me, and then expects, after a nice comment, she might get such a treat as to being able to leave me. Oh, I see. Does she need reinforcement? Have I not made it clear enough to her? She's mine now. I might just have yelled at her then and there, but couldn't... the words wouldn't escape my mouth. I wouldn't build a conversation only to ruin it by making her crumple away into a corner again. I changed the topic.

"How about a little outing tonight? You and I." I asked. She brightened up.

"Where will we go?" She asked, a smile _almost _coming to grace her lips. How adorable... she tries to hide her excitement.. it comes as an awkward sneer. I decided to play with her then.

"You'll just have to wait and see," I replied, "I suggest you wear something formal." By that it meant that she would be wearing one of the dresses I bought... Those that complimented her... some more than others, but it was her choice, but my mind filled with possibilities. How she might wear her hair... what makeup she might put on...

She looked like she was calculating instead of being excited over formal wear.

"How long have I been here?" Her voice was hollow.

"Four weeks, more or less."

"When will we be leaving?"

"Before dinner.

"But..." I was so happy that she was actually looking forward to lessons. I was happy she still intended on having them with me. It doesn't matter whether she was, of course. I would make her one way or another, to hell with her misjudgment.

"We will have to miss the lesson today," I inquired. "Now why don't you try to sleep a little more?

She nodded acknowledgedly, and then almost skipped off as my heart relieved itself... And only one thing mattered more than her kind obedience... she said _yes_.

Though she basically ignored me the rest of the day, after pining for a conversation, just to ask her opinion on a subject, she would blatantly ignore it. I normally wouldn't be so greedy for attention, but it seemed proper. Would I have a date only to be ignored?

The night came too quickly, and before I knew it, Christine locked herself in her room to get ready for our _date_. I, too, did the same thing, dressing into my finest suit and best fitting mask, I would attempt to look my best for Christine in return for her dressing up, keeping up the illusion that all this was normal. I even made myself look into the mirror, seeing for myself whether I looked perfectly suitable or not, and flinched away, realizing it was enough, reminiscent of my fifth birthday party... if you dare call it that, when I finally _looked _at myself. With lack of a better description to state here, I scared _myself. _It explains some of the scars that are ridden on both of my arms and hands that like to stay with me years later.

Once I finished torturing myself, I moved up to stand before Christine's door. Stupidly enough, I felt like a fool, my hand quivering from the door back to my side. It took a few tries before I recovered from the stupidity of a school boy, and knocked on her door.

"Are you ready to go, Christine?" I called through her door.

"Yes, hold on." She managed. I waited impatiently outside her door, feeling my hand already trying to grab for the door knob when she opened the door.

She wore a white summer dress, exposing her back and it went down to her knees. It really brought out her brown eyes and hair... and other things, but to be proper, I wouldn't like to discuss them. She looked beautiful, as always, and I felt flustered just thinking that I would have this lovely of a lady wrapped around my arm.

She waited patiently for me to finish studying her, thankfully not realizing too much, and out on a whim, I outstretched my hand for her to take. She looked at it skeptically, realizing how this was in the wrong. Disappointed, I put the hand back to my side, and then began to walk down the hallway to lead her to the front door.

Damon, my personal driver, was waiting out in the car. I opened the door for Christine, and helped her inside, as I sat in the backseat with her, hoping that this might leave it open for any sort of conversation to start. I never got up the words to start anything, and I don't think she wanted to talk. Sadly enough, she studied her outside surroundings, looking out through the window instead of acknowledging that I was even inside the car, and it was I who was taking to dinner and to the opera for the night. I sighed to myself. Well, at least she was coming, that's always the plus side. What if she thinks this as a way to run? She wore high heels... if she was planning on doing so, she might have picked more suitable shoes instead.

Baltimore is quite a character of a city... there's plenty of crimes, like most cities, plenty of the homeless, yet in the middle of it, there is at least some beauty. A small theater district, and high buildings that indicated business, along with a harbor that trailed along side of it with old battleships and models. Most cities are like that, I find... poverty, homelessness, broken down buildings on the outside, and inside, a heart that throbbed with every step that the boisterous crowds took, so full of life and the promise of growth and evolution with crystalline skyscrapers, museums, and pieces of art stationed at some corners. Yes, cities are quite amazing. Not a particular favorite to live in the middle of, but good enough to visit and work in.

The opera house we were going to was one of the best, but not quite, and the production we were to see wasn't it's finest. I had my own box, as in quite a few opera houses dotted throughout the US, and some in Europe from previous travels, and when the time comes to visit them, the boxes become empty with a simple request. Most knew better than to challenge me.

But however, Christine needed to eat. So I reserved an Italian restaurant for the both of us. I had to reserve the entirety of the place to make our meal the most comfortable. They obliged with the extra sum of money they would be receiving.

"We'll be getting off here," I announced to her.

The car stopped wherever it could stop in front of it, so I had to walk a bit with Christine up to the doors. I offered my hand once more insistently. She looked at it with the same look as before, reluctance written all over her.

"Dear, I insist this time." I said simply, stepping out of the car. She obliged slowly, and her warm hand was in mine before she knew it. I gripped it tightly just for precaution. I didn't think she was unwise enough to even think about running, anyway. I helped her out of the car, and walked her up to the restaurant, uncaring of the few glances we received.

"I'd like the table I reserved," I announced as I walked in, the waitress turned around, her eyes suddenly opened wide, and fake defiance took place of the obvious astonishment. Feeling her trying to work her way out of my grip, I realized that I was holding onto her far too tightly. Between the nerves and my cautiousness, I didn't realize that I hurt her. She rubbed her wrist, grimacing at my hand as the waitress led us to the table with the best view.

"Did you buy this place out or something?" She asked from beside me, astonished.

"Yes," I replied simply. Little did she know how popular this restaurant was particularly, that on a normal occasion it would _not_ be emptied, making that a terrible question. I hoped this would not be a night of stupid questions and repugnant answers.

She began to look at the menu, and I did the same, though I know I wouldn't finish it. I would eat if it meant being normal to her, but on a normal basis, food meant so little to me.

"Are you actually going to eat?" She questioned.

"I might," I replied, but her asking already secured the definite yes.

"Interesting," She sighed, "Why don't you eat in the first place? Is food not good enough for you?"

Ha... she could say that. I was just glad that this wasn't her blatantly ignoring me.

"There are some things in life that are more fulfilling than a brief alternative." I answered. That took her aback. She averted her eyes back to her menu.

"But people have to eat once in a while or else you could die." She replied, monotonously.

"And that worries you?" I chided dryly.

"I'm not sure..." She trailed off. It was a strange conversation, it's understandable.

The waitress came and left, taking our drinks. I ordered a glass of wine, something I knew I would drink. A good wine was all I could need to distract me in case the event went down the wrong path. At least there was more than one relieving path open to me.

"So we have a truce, then?" She began. That automatically brought me out of my reverie about fine-tasting wine, and other brilliant things that didn't mean the pain of last night.

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked innocently, wishing to not even come back to this topic.

That bugged her, and she glared, saying _"must I spell it out for you_?" "You know... last night... I saw..."

I didn't let her finish. "I made the reservations beforehand," I lied simply to steer her away. I made them this morning, quite contrarily. I didn't want her knowing the extent of my desperation for her view of me... In a world where image is everything...

"You could have canceled, then." She huffed.

"That's correct, but I thought you might dearly enjoy the next place we are going to." I explained sincerely.

"There's more?" She was excited again, I could see it. Despite what I kept telling myself, she was really wanting to be here if it meant to be out of the house.

"You'll see," I teased.

"So... are we? You know..."

"Yes, I suppose so." Though I knew it would take a little more rebuilding on my part, but she didn't need to know that for now. As long as she was at my side, as long as she kept sighing with that relief that she just exposed now, I would be pleased. At least it means I haven't broken her. It means she respects me as a gentleman still, despite whatever means I'm not to her. I was perfectly content with that, as long as lines weren't crossed again.

I didn't bother to pitch another conversation for a while, trying to think through the topics I might be able to bring up. I figured it wasn't worth it to keep where we were going next from her, for it was such an _awkward_ silence. I don't know why I thought that this dinner would be filled with conversation, or even a laugh or two, so far I don't know why I even thought it might be a good time at all to bring her here. I asked a question I already knew the answer to to spark further interest for myself for even doing this.

"Have you ever been to an opera, Christine?"

"My dad took me... once..." she sighed, and looked from me back to the food on her plate awkwardly, and looked at mine expectantly, which reminded me that I should be eating in order to please her.

"Do you remember which one you saw?" I asked before taking a bite, raising the mask a little, but not too much. As long as she continued to avert her eyes to her hands like that, I'll be fine.

"_Don Giovanni, _I think." She looked to me, her eyes expecting, lighting up more than they have lately, "Is that what we're going to do tonight? See an opera?"

Her excitement absolutely pleased me, though it was obviously a tie to her father in some way. Normally such young children wouldn't be taken to operas, unfortunately in this day and age, so it pleased me even more that Christine was so excited, though she probably was only 13 when this happened. If I spoke to anyone else, they would have rolled their eyes for that age. And yet, another reason why I love Christine... She's so _different_.

"You guessed correctly," I answered.

"Exciting." She smiled charmingly, and continued to finish her plate.

"I'm glad you're excited. The company that is in it is renown for their excellence which might be very enjoyable. But we'll see, won't we?"

She lost the smile, and said a subtle, "I guess." Whatever caused her to lose all that exuberance is beyond me, no matter how much I love her and can predict her more often than not, I'll never understand her and how she wants to come out to be. I took another swig of the fine wine before finishing the meal. She eyed the plate and then rolled her eyes, which suggested that whatever further conversation was at a total loss.

"I believe we should be on our way." I told her and as she rose from her seat, I grabbed her hand, more gently this time, but it's better to be safe with her than to lose her altogether, no matter how uncomfortable with her. For the record, I loved holding her hand.

"What opera are we seeing?" She asked while getting into the car.

"I intended on it being a surprise, but if you insist..." I said warily, waiting for her to give me a yay or a neigh, looking away from her.

"No, I'll wait," She replied lightly, and I looked at her to see if this sudden change in mood was real, and it was... she smiled and nodded. Such a strange creature who loves destroying and then rebuilding.

We arrived a few blocks later to the Opera house which I have often frequented while being here. My seat has always been reserved in the management's best interest. It was something she didn't need to know how or why... The only explanation to her might be the money, but even money needs more convincing. I won't say _how_ I was convincing... Just that sometimes business people might be swayed other places in their demanding publics best interests. Whatever the circumstances were, nothing was going to ruin this performance for Christine and I, except perhaps myself, but I can hold it back until voice lessons once we can compare for her learning.

"Where are we going?" The poor girl was suddenly panicking as she gripped my hand even more tightly.

"We're going through the back for obvious reasons," I confided, which was another reason out of a few. I'd rather keep private for plenty of reasons. She gave me the oddest of looks.

"You didn't mind before now." She accused.

"I happen to have a reputation here hat might not peacefully be acknowledged." I answered quickly, wishing to resume as I led her into the side door to the Opera House.

"Like what?" She challenged accusingly.

"Something that can be explained when we get inside."

I led her to the box that was mine, Box Five, with a great view of the stage and house, with great acoustics which was not surprisingly why I always have such trouble trying to acquire it for the both both of us. She stared in awe as we arrived, obviously surprised about what we were going to sit in, which was rather silly of her... she thought we would sit down in the house after that I just told her? Whatever she was trying to pull here was nothing entertaining. I got her a playbill for I knew she loved those... I once saw her collection of 10 different playbills when she was fourteen while she was bragging to her friends about how many shows she's seen. Her friends didn't share the same interests often, for she didn't fit in with her own group of people with the same interests for she's much too shy, but nevertheless was she proud.

"I thought you might look through this with your interest in playbills." I noted. I looked over her shoulder out of curiosity as she turned through the pages seeking out the cast mainly, and gave my remarks to her so I wouldn't have to scoff at it later. She was rather confused about if I hated someone, namely the leading soprano who was called only by Carlotta for her name was well known in this company. She was only in the leading position because her father basically sponsored most of it... Christine was going to change it, I already knew, and not only that but I was going to take her farther than that petty company. I'm getting ahead of myself again... She would never have any idea about the amount of success I have ahead for when I knew she was going to reach it with me.

She was confused about the basic politics in the operatic world. It's a slow-moving world apart from the rest, yet it is so very intricate that many have no idea, which is why I take a very strong interest in it out of many reasons. I keep it moving.

The curtains finally lowered after a brief conversation with Christine about the rest of it, and it was utterly horrendous... the ballet was off by at least a beat, the lead was flat, and the orchestra had a hard time keeping up even when the lead stabbed herself... Making it anti-climatic, out of many things, and simply amateur for such an acclaimed professional group. Pitiful.

"That was really good," Christine stood and applauded, wiping... could it be tears?--from her eyes. She had a lot to learn, I just seemed to notice as if it was a big epiphany. Soon she'll learn that this was wretched, and she should be fully able to critique it... I'll give her that strength, as I know I should.

"It could have been better," I tied in, monotone... disappointed. I had truly wanted something she could try to model herself better for, but it seems that it only leads to something. It didn't matter right now, I reminded myself, after telling myself I wouldn't be so harsh about it. Of course it led to disappointment, fool, now enjoy Christine! "But yes, very good." I lied.

"Just because nobody else can pull off perfect music to the point of unreal beauty, doesn't mean it wasn't matching up to fulfilling standards," She noted dryly, rolling her eyes at me. I suppose that could most definitely be a compliment, so I took it as one.

"We will continue this conversation in the car, but first we need to get out. I would like to get out of here before the crowds do without taking a back way if you don't mind." I explained, rising from the seat and offering my hand she took without a second thought... or perhaps I grabbed it again. I can't tell the difference... The point is she didn't seem to mind so much when I touched her hand, which was a step up if I do say so myself, though only slightly.

It has been a good night, I have to admit, despite the few quirks, and jolts in our relationship, it's been rebuilt just as I intended for this date to be. The first and many more, I reminded myself positively. For Christine will be here as long as I want her to, she undoubtedly belongs to _me_. Perhaps it was karma that came to haunt me which brought the impeccably annoying to my halt. That maybe in my highest of spirits it all should come crashing down like nothing happened, and everything that we worked on tonight was coming to a close call... As if that could happen as long as I have a say.

* * *

**I suppose this is pretty long... I had to fit it all in here before I get a new chapter. I actually intend on this being shorter than In My Childish Fears just because I want to give it my all, yet time and inspiration always seem so deprived for me. Sorry I didn't update earlier, as I had planned, 'cause I had a heck of a lot of time to do so, but I couldn't get this perfect. And about the other story I intended on posting... well... I'm still going at it, don't worry... It'll be up by the end of next month, I swear, but the beginning of next month is totally... AGH... I'm so damn busy it's just not fair anymore. I'll have a new chapter up by the end of next week hopefully. **

**I also want to take the space to thank my reviewers who consistently review such as TimeFlies. I really love you people who are so kind as to critique my work. You're better than my English and Creative Writing teachers... just put the lot of it up front instead of dancing around about what you got to say, LOL... Which means you have to KEEP REVIEWING, S'il vous plait.**

**Merci,**

**~The Phantom's Flutist~  
**


	7. Deceptive Cadence

**I'm baaaacckkk... I just got finished with my musical, and had an AMAZING time. I'm also getting to see Phantom for my second time live in like... 14 days!!! AAAHHH! I don't think I've ever been so happy at one time AND EXCITED!!!! IT'S PHANTOM FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. All these great emotions inspired me to write at midnight last night. SO I wrote this entire chapter last night, and don't have the patience to look over it right now, though I did review over it once. I changed some stuff that differs from In My Childish Fears because I didn't like how it worked out. I'm pretty sure I'm going to keep resuming this differing from IMCF because I want to change a LOT of things. Not to mention I'm going to be SO inspired to write after I see Phantom. Great stuff to come, guys... I PROMISE!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!!!**

**~The Phantom's Flutist~**

_Chapter 7_

_Deceptive Cadence_

Things messed up very quickly, I must say. Quite frankly, I'm not surprised. I had hoped this night would be perfect, a time in order for Christine and I to set our priories straight and be a little more at peace in sharing the one thing we both love and adore.

It went down the wrong turn very quickly. After all, it _was _my first date with her... no, it can't be perfect, and there has to be _someone _to mess it u for us. In this case, it's the worst possible scenario.

I was walking her down to the lobby so that she could see the beauty of it, for I knew she liked the architecture of theaters because I heard her talking about it once. I decided to get her out of the theater in order for her to enjoy it before the crowds came, and both of us would be uncomfortable. I was walking at a decent pace in order to do so, and suddenly I can feel her pulling against me.

"Christine!"

Dammit.

It was that boy's voice... that wretched boy who she so loves. I prayed really quickly that since this was a date with _me_, she wouldn't be rude and turn around to respond to him. How quickly I was to judge.

"Raoul!" She beckoned back, pulling with all of her weight against my hand, so I had to literally try to drag her out of the opera house. She cried out, and tried to go against me, which never has worked, and shouted "Help me!"

Out of all of this, that was what really angered me. For the record, I was _not_ harming her in any sort of way. I've touched nothing except for her hand, I've done _nothing_ for her to fear me... except for when she saw my face, but by calling for help... she would be going against what she said to me... that all of those words that she told me were all lies only to calm me, and she didn't _actually _mean them.

"Let go of her!" The pathetic boy called back, and sprinted towards her, yet another mistake on his part. I had enough of him... stealing Christine away while ruining our night...I've never actually hated him... I figured he was just a bump in the road from winning Christine, that he didn't actually love Christine and that it was just a teenage infatuation. I don't blame him... how could you not love Christine? She's everything that a young man could ever want... Beautiful, charming, naïve... I could go on... but now he gives me more reasons to actually despise him.

"She's mine!" I snarled back, and ran forth, my hand wrapping around his neck in a position in order to reduce his air flow through the jugular. I pitched him onto a wall, so that I could easily let the air flow stop completely. My fingers, one by one, crunched into them... one by one my problems with him were slowly disappearing as he turned a fine shade of blue.

But that was before I heard Christine's voice pleading with me, pulling on my coat, and crying harshly, imploring me to let him go so she could go away from him and leave this place. It was convincing enough...

I let the boy fall to the ground, ruining his expensive suit, which I could tell was just as finely tailored as my own, so the boy had money, making him all the more attractive to an orphan girl who's known him for a while... he's also handsome, and every stereotype that a girl only dreams of in those silly novels. And I hated him more right then than you could ever imagine. I spared his life only for Christine's sake. Unfortunately, tonight would be filled with rummaging through video cameras, and destroying all evidence of this event, only making my evening much worse than it already was.

Not only that but Christine was obviously petrified. She was shaking as I had to now actually drag her out of the opera house and throw her into the car as I got in on the other side. I was angry enough not to care for her and her pathetic crying, but her sobs only got worse.

"We were having a fine time until he showed up." I said shortly, bothering to look at her in her sad frame... She wasn't going to get over this as easily as she surprisingly got over my face. She really did care for him, and that only pained me more than you could imagine. "Hush, darling..."I called to her sweetly, reaching out to comfort her, but she shrunk into the seat of the car to turn away from it, so I put it back to my lap. "I wasn't going to kill him." I lied smoothly.

"Yes you were! You were!" She screamed at me, in a strong fit of anger. "I saw what you did! What you looked like! What you said! How could you not want to kill him!?"

She was so angry, her entire face turned a brilliant red... It reminded me almost of my mother before she wanted to slap me. "Don't you touch me!" She said when I tried to reach out to her again... and she sounded like my mother as well, reprimanding me for doing something bad only by the presence of her tears and thorough anger.

I stayed silent, fearing that I would begin to have more connections to a long lost and better left forgotten past.

All was lost... everything we built that night was gone instantly, and there was nothing I could do but be her faithful servant once more. I was angry as ever, but I restrained whatever I had left in my silence. The car ride lasted for what seemed like hours.

Once we got back to our home, I screamed at her to go to her room, and she screamed back, "I was already going!" And I heard her slam her door shut. I followed after her silently in order to lock her door, and all I could hear were her sobs, and that singular sound haunted me the rest of the night for I spent it without music... and simply went a little to far with morphine, quite possibly at a deathly rate. I fell asleep just as quickly as the morphine came.

I woke up very early in the morning, too early, it felt... I was so tired, not just physically, but everything seemed to ache. I thought it the after-effects of the morphine, for it was so much of a dosage that I'm not sure how my body will take it... It's not like myself to realize whether something is unhealthy or not. Before Christine, I wouldn't care if it caused my death when I woke up or not... I've been in so many near-death experiences, that it never perturbed me again. Now that Christine is here... I had to be more responsible for her, but she seems to be causing all this... More likely than not... her existence in my life will be the death of me, and if it is like I believe it is... God has a wicked sense of humor.

I took up the courage to go to her room and beg for forgiveness later in the afternoon. Come to find out from Anne, she was still in her night clothes, and laying on the bed, unmoving. I had to do something about this... I wasn't going to let her wilt away from me again, no matter how much of my fault it is.

I knocked on her door lightly. "Christine?" My voice sounded surprisingly tired. "You can't ignore me forever... it's noon." I noted shortly.

The door was partially open, so I cracked it open a little more to see her still laying down, except, thank God, she's changed out of her night clothes.

"Answer me." She looked up from her pillow, to reveal that she was crying, her cheeks were very puffy and red. She looked uncomfortably tired.

"Christine, please don't cry anymore, you know I hate to see you cry." I said to her, coming closer to the bed, and she moved back, as if it was a magnetic reaction. "Please don't be frightened of me... I'll never harm you... I promise to be good..."

Once again, I received no answer. "I'll be very good... In fact, this will never happen again..." Silence again, which only made me twice as much desperate as I was before. "Christine! _Please_... Answer... give me any sign that you are listening... Forgive me! Oh, forgive me!" I exclaimed, leaning down to grab her hand. She stared at my hand for the longest time before she pulled away. It was so strange. I was losing her... she was so _dead. _Very dead. I couldn't bare it.

"All I want is the real Christine back... the one who smiled with her father, and would sing her heart out for him... now I want her back... No matter how much you deny it, I love you very much! If you could just _see_!"

"Stop it, Erik!" She spat suddenly, threateningly.

I was aghast, the first thing she does is yell at me!

"What do you mean?" I was so very confused at this girl.

"You_ don't_ understand! And you never will! You don't go and try to kill my boyfriend, then come back and plead forgiveness. It doesn't work like that."

Her _boyfriend_? She has only been to see him once since he moved back to this part of the country. I wasn't about to pitch another argument, especially for someone who she will never see again. I wasn't about to make that announcement to her. Not now... later tomorrow...

I was caught for what to say... "Then what do you _want_ me to say, Christine?" I asked hotly.

"That you won't try to harm him again. He didn't do _anything_! You attacked him for no good reason."

"You screamed for help." I curled my hands into fists at my sides so tightly, I thought I might make my hands bleed.

She paused, looking for something to say to that. "You scared me!"

"Yes, I do seem to cause that effect to you and others."

"Tell me that you won't harm him or anyone else, and maybe... _maybe_ I'll forgive you. You must promise."

"Yes! I promise!" I said instantly.

"I'll be very angry if you don't keep that promise, Erik." She told me shortly, watching me as I came to my knees before her, wanting to kiss her so much, and hold her in my arms as if everything was better. She still looked so uncomfortable and awkward.

"Of course!" I replied, of course at that moment I would have said 'of course' to anything if it meant that she would be happier with me.

"Thank you," She replied, not all the way relieved, but she was better than before. We were both silent in our own thoughts, as I got up from my knees.

"Now... are you too tired for a lesson, or not?" I asked, almost imploring that she wasn't tired and I shouldn't have asked.

"No, I'll be fine..." She sighed.

"Are you sure?" Which was kind of a blinded question, as long as she was willing, who was I to stop her? As long as I could hear her sing again for me.

"Yes." She replied simply.

"Good."

Today's lesson actually went very well. Whether it was the emotion that drove her forth or not, she was louder and more sure of herself today, and her voice exceeded beyond expectations. Her ranged also moved up, almost into the coloratura area, which made me very proud of her. She was vastly improving more than I expected... making it probably the most succession I've ever heard of in a voice.

"It won't be much longer before you can perform. Your father would be very proud."

She looked at me hopefully, and then back down to her feet. "It could be very nerve-wracking, you know..."

"Why do you say that?" I bid her to continue.

"Because... Well, I heard you critique Carlotta last night... I'm sure it's not just you who would be that cruel if someone has a bad night or maybe... something wrong happened...."

She was judging off of my critique! I even considered myself harsh, when I step back and look at what I have said about some singers... some were actually very awful that they lost their careers because another critic agreed with me, but it's part of the life of a stage performer. Not that I would know entirely, because I wouldn't. It's always been an impossible dream of mine... to be in an opera myself. No, my performing standards have never exceeded much out of what's considered normal stage performing...

"Christine, don't say that about yourself." I told her. "You're far too strong for that." Which was sort of a lie... she used to be that strong, though. "I've seen you on the stage before, how you light up, and put your soul out there for the world to see..."

"My only solo was _'Oh Holy Night_.' That's nothing special."

"It was simply remarkable for someone of that age, and you've only exceeded that level by ten times already."

"You're biased."

"No... I'm hardly a biased person when it comes to music."

And then something remarkable happened... she smiled! Only a little... but just enough to stop my heart for a few beats and then restart.

"With my help, you can be in anything you desire to be in..." I said, sighing, trying hard not to show how much her smile effected me.

"That's not fair! Don't do that!"

"Of course not," I replied, what was supposed to be sarcastically. Her voice is now mine... the moment she stepped foot into this house, her voice was mine. She doesn't understand it yet, but she will. I busied myself in order to not look at her, because I didn't want to laugh, she would find it weird... but I knew she was giving me the strangest of looks.

"Are you hungry?" I asked suddenly, randomly.

"Yes." She answered far too quickly.

The next few days seemed to be far too long for my taste. Things moved slowly, and leisurely, which was nice to a point, but it got annoying really fast when Christine didn't talk to me. In return, I sent Anne away so that she would have to choose to talk to me. Anne, of course, didn't go down without a fight, but I assured her Christine would be fine, that she was finally getting used to the house, and I wasn't about to do something "stupid" as she put it after she slapped me... or tried to, after I attempted to threaten her away which virtually never works with someone as stingy as herself.

Anyways, the point is, Christine was forced to talk to me more. After all that time, she started having casual conversations with me again, and we went into detail. Or at least she did... I would never go into detail about my life for her sake... It was too much of a burden to bare, and she already has so many already.

The better I got to physically know Christine, the more I think I fell in love with her, if that was at all possible. Whether she knew it or not, every little thing she did toward me only made me more attracted to her.

It was a great and terrible feeling... this irrevocable love and adoration and she had no idea of it. I wished she would, but I found that the more I told her I loved her, the farther apart she would get from me, which only made both of us uncomfortable.

She won't love me back for any time in the near future, but she and I had all the time in the world, as far as I could tell. One excellent day she will come to love me, and whenever that day is will be the happiest day in my life... But for now, unrequited love is slowly killing me inside.

One night she and I had dinner outside in my garden, which was something that really pleased her. She was becoming paler as time went on, and I would have none of it. She needed fresh air badly, so I couldn't refuse her when she begged me for her to go outside. Italian dinner seemed to be the most favored among the both of us, to be exact.

I went through so many cookbooks in order to find the best dish and the best mix of spices in order to create the best sauce... it took me just about all day. I was never the best cook, but I was skilled in the area... just something more to learn when there's time on your hands, and nothing to spend it with.

I took her outside, arm and arm with myself, the dim light matched her features so beautifully, it was very hard to keep my eyes off of her. My own personal angel... I could never seem to completely soak in her presence, ever, for it was always so unreal when she was calm, and we both would have a good time with the company of each other.

I pretended she was my wife... that she will one day be when she is old enough... maybe, if not before. And instead of it being the night, we were in the day time, and I could stroll about without my mask, and she wouldn't care... and neither would the other people that would be in the same park as well. Everything would be so _normal_... I could live a normal life, and not that of which is all I've ever known. I wouldn't kill anymore, and I would have a steady career in composing... Perhaps create the next widely known opera, which was something I dreamed of ever since I was a very little boy, and I first heard an opera singer sing... The most extraordinary sound that came out of her mouth filled me with curiosity and wonder...

Ah... my fantasies are so grand, I could write a length novel on my daily fantasies, paint an entire alternative life through my own thoughts.

We had a short conversation, nothing much, only a few polite comments about the food I made, yet I knew it wasn't _that_ wonderful. She was thoughtfully silent, for I knew she was in deep thought about _something_ judging by the way that she stared at the sky. I could only stare at her, hardly obvious to her, but I knew she knew.

"Erik?" She asked suddenly. I loved when she said my name. It was so gentle and careful, and nobody has ever said my name like that. "Why do you love me? I'm not pretty... and I'm so young and stupid and naïve." She went on, "and I'm not skinny, I'm impatient... and angry _all _the time..."

"Christine... you judge yourself far too harshly." I interrupted. "And quite frankly... whether you want to believe it or not... you're beautiful... very beautiful. You only look at your flaws, when your perfections outweigh them. I can't tell you _why_ I love you... We would be out here for a long time..."

I looked back to her, and she looked at me, as if she was just struck in headlights, which was such an accustomed look for her whenever I look at her. "You make no sense."

"I don't think it should. " I replied. I shuffled with my hands a little bit before returning my eyes back to her, who was now staring off into space for a moment, thoughtful once more. Now, I was grateful enough... that maybe she was thinking about _me_. "It's getting a dark... we should be heading inside."

"No!" she spat suddenly. And then went back into herself because of her sudden outburst. "Just a little longer!" She begged. It was nice, I suppose...

"I can't deny you anything..." I sighed, though she was still shivering when the wind blew through the trees as the sun disappeared through them. I studied the open space above the trees, and named off constellations in my head. "Look, Christine! To the left." I instructed, once I saw a moving dot across the sky.

"A shooting star..." She breathed, and looked up in wonder, which was quite adorable... She once gave me that look when she first came here. I laughed lightly.

"Make a wish, my child..." She leaned her head back and shut her eyes, something more that was adorable.

I wished to whatever would listen... that she would be _mine_. I _prayed _so very hard that she would one day be mine, so that she would smile because of me, and be happy with me... One day... we both would be so very happy and my fantasies might come true... at least part of them.

We headed back inside after a little while, because I could now see the permanent goosebumps. She asked to come back outside the next day, and I agreed. If it meant spending more time just with the both of us, with the intimacy of the night, it was good for our relationship.

I watched her sleep again, as I do almost every night, except the nights when I can't stand myself. I figure I could find what she was thinking of through her sleep, depending on her state of peace, or whatever dream she is having. How I wished I could read her mind... What she really thinks of me...


End file.
